


Clair de Lune

by Yilena



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Fantasy, Minor Character Death, Mythical Beings & Creatures, Romance, Slow Burn, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-02
Updated: 2019-05-02
Packaged: 2020-02-16 04:37:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 33,658
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18684298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yilena/pseuds/Yilena
Summary: When Marinette bonds with a shy customer that appears almost daily, he turns out to be the catalyst for her finding out there's more to life than serving coffee and spending time with her best friend. She just hadn't been looking for it before. AU.





	Clair de Lune

**Author's Note:**

  * For [EtoilesJaunes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/EtoilesJaunes/gifts).



> Lynn, my sweet wife. I didn't intend to make this even more ridiculous than _bite me (politely)_ , but somewhere along the line, this turned from a sort of dark story to absolutely stupid and the one person I talked to about it just cheered me on. I hope you enjoy this! It doesn't have the spooky ending, but fingers crossed that it's still satisfying.

_Miraculous: Tales of Ladybug & Chat Noir © Thomas Astruc_

“Hey,” Marinette greeted, her smile not forced. “Going for the next one down today?”

The male she was talking to look at her in surprise. “I—me?”

“Yeah,” she confirmed, grinning. “You're the only one in the queue right now, dude.”

The last word just made him even more bewildered. Marinette watched as he mouthed the word to himself, no sound coming out, and there was a small pause before he asked, “You—you remember me?”

“Sure, you've been coming in for, like, almost two weeks now, right?”

He reached up touched the back of his head. “Yes.”

“What'll it be today, then?” she prompted. “Am I right?”

He cleared his throat. “Yeah— _yes_. That'll be great, thanks.”

After she input his order into the till, she noticed that his ears were red when he handed over his money, and that combined with the meek thanks that came from his mouth, she had to assume that he was feeling awkward from her pointing out that she'd recognised him.

“I'll bring your drink over to you,” Marinette said with a smile.

He stuttered out another thank you.

It was one of the highlights of her day when customers were nice, even if it was just basic manners. The awkward guy had been slowly going through their menu, from the boring to the more lavish options, always taking out what looked to be a small container of sweetener from his pocket, mixing it into his drink.

When she offered to put it in for him the following day, he clammed up before quickly shaking his head.

There wasn't much interaction between the two of them, other than the basic conversation while taking his order and his stuttered out thanks when she delivered his drink, but it was probably because he was tall, soft-spoken, and liked to sit in the corner while on his laptop that she remembered him so well.

It was because of that that she recognised him at the supermarket.

Beside her, her best friend wrinkled her nose in distaste at the options in front of them.

“I don't care about what you put in your body, but this looks straight up gross,” Chloé remarked, batting Marinette's hand away when she'd gone to reach for the food on the shelf.

Marinette tutted. “Why are you stopping me, then?”

“I refuse to associate with you if you eat that,” was the reply that she got, and it was emphasised with a push of Chloé's blonde hair behind her shoulder. “Someone has to look after you if you insist on being so dumb.”

She squinted. “You literally just said you don't care.”

“Shut up.”

“You're so full of shit,” Marinette muttered, not attempting to reach for the item again. Instead, they continued down the aisle to another section, and she gestured towards a shelf. “Is this good enough for you yet?”

Chloé's frown was all she needed to know her answer.

Whether it was food, drink, or even which films they were going to watch, Chloé was very particular about everything. It was because of that that Marinette usually tried to just let her pick, but Chloé was _terrible_ at making decisions.

The tall figure on the other end of the aisle caught her attention.

“Oh, look at that,” Marinette remarked, pushing the basket into Chloé's chest so she had no choice but to take it. “I see someone I know. I'll go say hi while you decide what to fucking _pick_.”

There wasn't any time for Chloé to voice her protests, but she was probably muttering them underneath her breath.

Marinette reached up to tuck some of her dark-coloured hair behind her ear as she approached, hoping that she wasn't going to make a fool of herself. He was nice enough at the store—so, hopefully, going up to him to say hello wasn't going to be too awkward.

“Hey,” she started, coming to stand beside him and putting one hand into the pocket of her jacket. “Fancy seeing you here.”

It was almost comical to see him jump in shock, head turning around quickly to look at her.

“Sorry,” she apologised, only a little bit sincere. “I thought my footsteps were loud enough for you to hear.”

All he really had to say to that was a quiet, “Hi.”

“Am I bothering you?” Marinette blurted, taking in his awkward posture. “Oh, I totally am. Sorry about that. I just wanted to ditch my friend for a bit, but you don't have to put up with me because of that—”

“No, no,” he hastily interjected before he took in an audible inhale of breath. “I-I didn't expect to see you, that's all.”

She let out a laugh at that, but it sounded as nervous as she felt. “Yeah, surprise. I exist outside of my work, can you believe it?”

“Do you—do you live around here?” he asked before seeming to realise what he'd said, quickly shaking his head as he stuttered out. “I—no, I meant—this is close to your work, that's all.”

“A little,” she said, lifting her free hand and leaving a small space between her finger and thumb to emphasise her words. “This is kind of in the middle of my place and my friend's, so we meet up here—okay, that's a lot of unnecessary information to give you. Sorry, I just blurt it out when I'm nervous.”

She could see it as he swallowed. “Nervous?”

Marinette smiled. “Well, it's not like I know your name, right?”

He did an awkward little shuffle on the spot, shifting his weight to another foot. “I-I don't know yours either.”

“Marinette.” Then, to amplify how weird their meeting was, she stuck out her hand for him to shake. “I'm Marinette.”

His hand was cold in hers. “Adrien.”

“It's nice to put a face to a name,” she announced as he continued to hold onto her hand. Then, when she realised what she accidentally said, her face felt hot as she corrected, “I mean, a name to a face, you know? Oh, gosh, this has just been a disaster.”

But to that, he—Adrien—smiled widely, showing the indents on his cheeks as it reached his eyes. “You're... just like when you're at work.”

She blinked. “An awkward mess?”

“Nice,” he corrected, still smiling.

Taking her hand back, Marinette put it into her other pocket, making her stance even. “I'm glad calling you dude didn't make you submit a complaint about me, then.”

His brow furrowed.

“Some people complain,” she explained with a shrug of her shoulders, “that I'm too friendly sometimes. Have to keep it professional, even if they are regulars.”

“I—” Adrien cleared his throat. “I didn't mind it.”

She grinned. “That's good.”

There was a pause in the conversation, a beat of silence where they just stared and mirrored each other's smiles, but it was ruined by a shout from behind her that said, “I'll fucking leave you!”

Marinette took her hand out of her pocket to gesture over her shoulder. “And that'll be my friend. It was nice seeing you, Adrien.”

He waved at her awkwardly as she left.

Chloé was at the end of the aisle, basket on the floor, and her arms crossed with a frown clear on her face. She was tapping her foot, too, making it apparent that she was displeased with having been left by herself.

The basket was filled up more than before, and Marinette only got a few seconds to look at it from afar before Chloé pushed it with her foot, making it so it slid and stopped in front of Marinette's feet.

“What if I tripped?” Marinette grumbled as she leaned down to pick it up by the handles. “It's like you don't care about me at all.”

Chloé sniffed dramatically. “You should've thought about that before ditching me to flirt with some weirdo.”

She couldn't help but point out, “You think everyone I talk to is a weirdo. So, doesn't that make you one?”

“Absolutely not,” Chloé replied. “I'm better than everyone, including you. It's not my fault that you refuse to see reason.”

Marinette resisted the urge to roll her eyes. “Yeah, whatever you say. But did you really have to get this sauce again? You know I hate it.”

Chloé scoffed. “Don't eat it, then. It's simple.”

“Looking at it offends me since I know how bad it tastes.”

“I'm sorry, who's the entitled one here?” Chloé asked rhetorically. “It's me and only me. Fuck off, Mari.”

-x-

“One second, I just have to fix this damn thing—”

And when she looked up, her smile wasn't too forced when she realised who was standing in front of her.

“Hey,” she greeted, noting he was the only one in the queue. “Adrien, right?”

He shuffled on the spot. “That's me.”

“It's the middle of the week, I was almost expecting for you never to appear after we bumped into each other last week,” she remarked.

“I-I was busy,” Adrien explained, reaching up and running a hand through his hair. “Sorry.”

She laughed. “There's no need to apologise. Hell, I know I wouldn't come in here and order a drink daily—shit, don't tell my boss I said that.”

Even his smile was shy. “I won't.”

Making an exaggerated noise of relief, she put her hand over her heart. “Anyway, what can I do for you today? I can't say my memory's good enough to remember where you left off after you've gone missing for a while.”

He stuttered out his reply, clumsily passing her the money afterwards, and it was only when she delivered the drink to his table—where he was sat in the corner, of course, with his laptop—that he said, “Thank you, Marinette.”

She beamed. “You remembered my name!”

“I—yeah?” It came out sounding like a question, and he was looking at her with wide eyes. “Was I... not supposed to?”

“No, no.” She waved her hand dismissively. “It's just nice you did, that's all.”

Even when she went back to front, she could see that his ears were red from a distance.

When he came in the following day, he answered her greeting by saying her name, making her smile wider. It was still a little forced, with him shuffling on the spot and looking increasingly nervous as he pointed out what he wanted to order, but she couldn't be as friendly as usual due to there being a queue behind him.

It wasn't a large coffee-shop. Throughout the week, she only ever had one person working with her, and for the most part, it was a girl named Juleka that preferred to make the drinks over interacting with people. Marinette didn't mind, though; she stepped in to help with the orders if it was ever overwhelming, but for the most part she was at the registers or walking around the shop to deliver the drinks to the tables while Juleka cleaned up.

It was a system that worked for the two of them, but sometimes, when it was a time where it was a holiday or schools were out, they had an extra person join them, making it a bit messy.

It also helped that she didn't work on the weekend.

There were rushes in the mornings where customers all wanted their drinks to go, and she had to hastily switch to the till whenever someone came inside to order—it was usually more laid-back throughout the day—so when she saw Adrien in the morning, she was surprised.

There wasn't much time to talk.

She offered to put his sweetener into the cup first so he wouldn't have to pause and mix it in himself, but he was still adamant about doing it.

On his way out, he cleared his throat and called out, “Have—have a good day, Marinette.”

Her voice was loud as she replied, “Bye, Adrien!”

She could see him smile through the window.

The next time he came in it was over two days later. Adrien had the same bag hanging off his shoulder, the one she knew had his laptop in it, and he was wearing an oversized cardigan as he shuffled inside, quietly apologising as he held the door open for someone else to exit first.

“Hey, you,” Marinette greeted as he came up to the counter. “I really need to stop wondering whether I've scared you away or something.”

His response wasn't to any of what she'd just said. “You changed your hair.”

She touched the fringe that she'd just gotten cut. “Does it look that bad?”

“No, it—it's different, that's all,” he hastily replied, one hand clutching onto the strap of his bag. “Was that weird for me to say?”

Marinette answered, “You're one of the first to notice, honestly.”

“Oh.” He wetted his lips. “I—it looks nice.”

“Thank you.” She beamed. “What can I get for you today, then? I'm assuming you're sitting in and not rushing off like last time.”

“In,” he confirmed.

And when Juleka had finished making his drink, Marinette made sure to put a little bit more sauce on top, even though she wasn't supposed to. It was apparent by that point that Adrien was leaning more towards the sweeter drinks. He was still going through the whole menu—there was only a few drinks left for him to choose from, though.

When she said that to him as she dropped off his drink, he parted his lips with no sound coming out, clearly not knowing what to respond to her.

“Guess we'll see whether there's anything good enough to keep you around here,” she replied with a grin.

His ears grew red again.

It so happened that that was the day that Chloé had time to stop in during her lunch break. Her friend walked in while putting her oversized sunglasses on the top of her head, and and what was supposed to be a dress-code of wearing only black was ruined by a splash of colour on her dress.

“You're going to get shit from your boss again,” Marinette pointed out.

Chloé waved a hand dismissively. “I'm an angel that can do no wrong, it's fine.”

“You literally tell your customers to shut up.”

“I'm cutting their hair, not asking to listen to their life story,” Chloé replied. “Besides, I'm the best there. I'm not going to be fired for not following their lame ass dress-code.”

She snorted. “Sure, what can I do for you, princess?”

“Get rid of the attitude, for one,” Chloé said. “I'll have my usual anyway.”

Marinette wrinkled her nose. “You want that gross syrup in it?”

“You don't get to judge _me_.”

Rather than sitting at a table, Chloé chose to be on a stool that faced where Marinette was working, so Chloé could make distracting faces and amuse her when there was a lull in customers. For someone that cared so much about appearances—and fixed people's for a living, even if she was very flippant about it—Chloé didn't seem to mind making a fool out of herself to cheer Marinette up, but only if it was on her own terms.

Juleka tapped on her shoulder when the drink was done.

“Thanks,” Marinette said, gently taking the tray into her hands.

She put it down with more force than necessary onto the bench, but the foam on top of the drink made it so it didn't spill dangerously. Chloé didn't even look up from where she was scrolling on her phone, though the way her lips curled into a smile definitely gave away her reaction.

“Your drink, ma'am,” Marinette announced, taking the drink off of the tray with a dramatic flair. “I hope your shitty syrup is to your liking.”

“Careful, I might go and cry to your boss about you sassing me.”

She snorted. “As if you'd ruin your make-up for that. You don't have enough time to reapply it before going back to work.”

Chloé frowned. “I didn't ask for you to use logic against me.”

“That's because you tend to not use your brain.” Marinette patted the top of Chloé's hair, not ruining the style that it was in. “Sure you don't want anything to eat?”

Chloé pulled a face. “No, I'll just gorge tonight instead.”

“That's terrible,” she chided, making herself comfortable and putting her elbows on the high table. “I'm not going to support your terrible life decisions.”

“Since when do you support me with _anything_?” Chloé retorted.

Marinette huffed. “Since always, bitch.”

Chloé's laughter was loud.

It was when Chloé pushed her hair over her shoulder that she noticed another bruise on her arm, a common occurrence that she was never happy to see. Chloé insisted that she was just clumsy, but it was mostly Marinette that bumped into things at their apartment.

Then again, it could've been at work.

Chloé announced out of nowhere, “By the way, I think you might have an admirer.”

Marinette eloquently replied, “What?”

“Some weirdo's been looking over the whole time you've been here,” Chloé explained. “Plus, you're kind of sticking your ass out for him to see.”

She stood up straight. “You're fucking with me.”

“No, really.” Chloé raised her chin as she said, “Look.”

And she did. It probably wasn't subtle, but when she turned to look over her shoulder, she could visibly see how startled Adrien looked as they made eye contact before he turned his attention back to his laptop.

“Oh.” Marinette let out a breath. “That's just Adrien, he's harmless.”

Chloé was unamused. “Right.”

“Really,” she assured her. “He's a really shy, too. I highly doubt he was looking at my ass—but at me? Yes, absolutely. I am a sight to behold, especially when I'm standing next to you.”

“I'm sure that was meant to be an insult, but I'm taking it as you calling yourself ugly,” Chloé replied. “Normally, I'd tell you to stop it, but you're being annoying right now.”

Marinette snorted. “Only right now?”

“Only all the damn time,” Chloé corrected. “I'm sorry that you'll never be as cute as me.”

She squinted. “Not sure where you're getting the idea that you're cute.”

“You tell me almost daily.”

“And now I'm going to tell you that I'm leaving because it's not actually my break,” Marinette responded, pretending to her fingers were guns and miming shooting her friend. It never failed to make Chloé's expression to pinch in distaste from the sight of it. “See you, nerd.”

Chloé spoke loud enough for her voice to be heard across the store. “I hope you choke.”

Beside her, Juleka's shoulders shook with silent laughter.

“You think wishing me harm is funny?” Marinette questioned, crossing her arms with an exaggerated huff. “You're as bad as her. Everyone's against me.”

Juleka just smiled at her.

There was a rush of customers after that, meaning that she couldn't wander back over to Chloé to talk to her, but her friend did wave at her on her way past.

Then, when Marinette had been home for a few hours and Chloé finally made it back to their apartment, she brought up the topic of her time in the café over dinner.

“That guy really was staring at you, by the way.”

Marinette looked at her in confusion. “What?”

“At work,” Chloé clarified. “Kept looking up every now and then. The blond one, yeah? You said his name was Adam or something.”

“Adrien,” she corrected.

Chloé waved a hand dismissively. “Aidan, whatever. But yeah, him. You sure you haven't got an admirer or something?”

She snorted. “I think he's just shy and you're taking it out of context. Maybe he wanted my attention for something—I was pretty busy.”

Chloé purposely stretched out her hum. “Even while talking to me.”

“That's very busy work,” she agreed. “Sure he wasn't looking at you? As you always say, you are the looks of our relationship.”

“Don't put yourself down too much, Mari,” Chloé said, reaching out and putting a sympathetic hand on her shoulder. “If I'm not in the room, you'd be the hottest. That's something to be proud of.”

She scrunched her facial features up. “Literally not what we were talking about.”

“I got bored of it,” Chloé retorted. “Entertain me and tell me the local gossip.”

“How dare you assume I listen in—”

Chloé wasn't having any of that. “Bitch, don't lie.”

-x-

Maybe Chloé wasn't exaggerating.

Which was new for her, at least.

Chloé liked to be dramatic about everything; from retellings of her day, recounting the weird clients that she got, and even when she summed up plots for films or shows while trying to convince Marinette to watch them with her, only for Marinette to find out that the details had been embellished.

And yet, she couldn't deny that Adrien did like looking at her.

He didn't hold eye contact when she caught him. Adrien hastily looked away, turning his attention back to his laptop, and that was the extent of their interaction whenever he was sat down with his order—other than his quiet good-bye as he left, always making sure to say it to her after they'd exchanged names.

Their awkward conversations at the counter were quite endearing, though. He was still soft-spoken, quiet, and had to repeat himself at times, but he wasn't really weird about it.

He was just shy.

It was kind of sweet, actually. Adrien looked at be around her age—wasn't someone middle-aged that kept looking at her—and he'd never done, or even said, anything inappropriate before. And even when he rarely interacted with Juleka, his demeanour was the same, meaning that he didn't overly change whenever he spoke to her.

Maybe he just wasn't good with people.

Chloé came in for her lunch breaks about once a week, when her appointments didn't overrun, and it was usually the time when Adrien was there, too.

It took her a few weeks to realise that Chloé was slowly moving closer to his table in the corner.

“Leave him alone,” Marinette scolded as she delivered Chloé her order. “He doesn't need you staring back at him.”

Chloé didn't even look ashamed as she exclaimed, “But it's _fun_.”

“He's more of a regular than you, and I'm pretty sure he's charmed my boss by now,” she replied. “If he stops coming, I'll absolutely say it's because of you.”

“Well, that's just rude.”

“But true,” she said. “So, stop looking over my shoulder at him and actually look at me. You're being weird.”

Chloé breathed out audibly. “ _Me_?”

“Yeah, you,” Marinette confirmed, emphasising her point by poking Chloé's shoulder lightly. “Stop being a weird person and staring. It's unbecoming.”

Chloé grumbled under her breath, “Yeah, I'm definitely the weird one here.”

“He's shy,” she defended. “And it's not like he's actually staring at my ass, right? So, it's fine.”

And that was all there was to that topic. Marinette stayed for a few more minutes, until a customer came through the door, and she honestly thought that that was the last of it.

It wasn't.

When she'd passed on an order to Juleka and had some free time, she was horrified to see that Chloé's table was empty, only for her to have moved to the seat across from Adrien.

Adrien wasn't typing on his laptop any more—his hands were in his lap, but the screen was left pushed up as he stared wide-eyed at his new acquaintance that had suddenly came to share his table in the corner.

No one had joined him since he'd started coming regularly, and the store was never completely full for tables to be shared.

It was very clear that he was uncomfortable.

Chloé was sat across from him, one thigh resting on top of the other, and she had the straw of her drink in her mouth, making the sight appear to be even more awkward from a distance.

Marinette honestly couldn't tell whether Chloé was trying to seduce him or be annoying.

“Hi,” Marinette started as she came closer, wiping a hand onto her half-apron nervously. “I'm so sorry, is she bothering you?”

Adrien's wide-eyed stare turned to face her.

He didn't get the chance to speak first. Instead, Chloé laughed, the sound half-hearted. “How could I ever bother anyone?”

Marinette shot her an exasperated look. “You bother me.”

“And that's bad customer service.” Chloé made a disapproving noise with her tongue. “I want to talk to your manager.”

“My manager doesn't want to talk to you,” she replied without any hesitation. “And you're not even talking to Adrien. You're just sat here awkwardly.”

Chloé's smile was smug purposely took another loud sip from her drink. “Staring, you mean.”

Adrien's shoulders slumped at those words.

“Okay, none of that,” Marinette decided, reaching down to grasp Chloé's arm, yanking her up to her feet without any resistance. “You're done here. Very sorry for the disturbance, Adrien.”

He didn't reply to that either.

Chloé was snickering as Marinette dragged her back to her original seat.

“That was _horrible_ ,” she hissed. “What were you thinking?”

“I imagine he's asking himself that right now,” was the reply that she got. Then, when Chloé noticed her disapproving expression, she added on, “It's not like I talked rudely to the guy or anything—I think I was quite nice, actually. There wasn't any swearing involved.”

She sighed. “Yes, that's clearly a big feat for you, but you were still being a dick.”

“Asilent dick.”

“Yes, great,” Marinette muttered. “Can you just—I don't know, _not_ do that? I think he's cute.”

Chloé squinted at her.

Defensive, Marinette asked, “What?”

“You... really?” Chloé asked slowly, her expression shifting into one of sympathy as she reached out to pat Marinette's shoulder. “I'm so sorry for you.”

Marinette slapped her hand away before it could touch her. “Not in _that_ way. It's like he's a lost kid or something, you know? It's sweet.”

“Marinette, I'm pretty sure he's capable of growing facial hair—”

“That doesn't stop him from being cute!” she exclaimed.

Then, instead of replying, Chloé's lips spread into a large smile that showed her white teeth.

It was suspicious.

It wasn't either of them that spoke next.

Someone cleared their throat from behind her. Marinette jumped, startled, and while she wasn't too worried that it was going to be her boss telling her off for slacking, she felt her face growing hot when she saw Adrien standing there, running a hand through his hair.

He eloquently blurted out, “I—bye.”

And that was it.

When he darted out of the door, not looking back or even waiting for her to reply at that, Marinette groaned and put her face into her hands as Chloé cackled beside her.

Her voice was muffled as she asked, “He heard me, didn't he?”

Chloé's laughter grew louder.

-x-

It took Adrien a few days to return.

After pausing in the entrance to sneeze, he wandered up to the till.

Marinette immediately said, “I'm so sorry about the other day. I honestly thought that she scared you off.”

Adrien looked surprised. “You... what?”

“My friend?” she offered, sounding confused. Then, when he furrowed his brow, she clarified, “The one that just stared at you.”

The sign of recognition was him frowning and ears growing red. “Oh.”

“I shouldn't have mentioned it,” she muttered. “Sorry, what can I do for you today?”

He ordered his drink to go. Adrien had finished trying all of them weeks ago, but he was still changing his order each time, never sticking to the same one. The only constant was that he always put his sweetener in afterwards.

When she passed the cup over to him, he blurted out, “I had a meeting.”

She blinked. “Sorry?”

“I was busy with work,” he said, voice growing quiet. “That's—that's why I wasn't here.”

Marinette grinned. “Did it go well?”

“I guess,” he answered vaguely.

“Well, I'm glad you're back,” she dared to say. “I almost missed you, you know.”

A small smile tugged at his lips. “Almost?”

“If you don't come in again for the rest of the week, I'll really start to miss you,” she replied, grinning. “How does that sound?”

“It—it sounds nice,” he stuttered out. Then, as if realising what he said, Adrien quickly blurted out a good-bye before leaving.

She decided that if he really didn't come back, she would miss him. It wasn't as though their conversations were deep—they were usually just Marinette rambling on as she typed in his order—but he was memorable just because of his reactions.

He turned up the next day.

Marinette couldn't resist teasing him with, “I did miss you.”

The startled expression was more than worth it. “But I came today.”

She grinned. “So?”

He didn't have a good answer for that.

If she was being honest, he was one of the best regular customers that she had. There were some that were friendly, of course, and made conversation with her—but for the few months that Adrien had been coming, his moods and way of speaking had been consistent. He'd never been rude.

When she dropped his order off at his table, she blurted out, “Do you have any pets?”

He blinked.

“...I was trying to think of a good icebreaker,” she lamely explained.

The laughter that escaped him was soft. “We have ice?”

“Maybe a little.” She shrugged. “I mean, I've known you a while but I don't actually _know_ you, right? You could be a murderer for all I know.”

He grimaced. “I don't like blood.”

“You could be really meticulous,” Marinette mused. “It would give a new meaning to a clean cut.”

And when he smiled, it showed his dimples. “I'm pretty sure there'd still be blood.”

“Okay, being a murderer is definitely out, then.” She made a disapproving noise. “But that doesn't really cross anything is. You know so much more about me.”

He pointed out, “You're very open.”

“Only if you've heard me complaining about my problems with Juleka over there,” Marinette started, gesturing with her thumb over her shoulder to the counter. “You know my job, my annoying best friend who decided to share a table with you, and... I don't know, what have I ranted to you about?”

His smile was wide as he shrugged.

“It's a mystery,” she said with a laugh, not at all embarrassed. “I kind of ramble sometimes, sorry.”

“Don't be sorry,” Adrien replied. “It's—I like it.”

She asked, “My rambling?”

He cleared his throat. “I—yeah. Is that weird?”

“No, not at all,” Marinette replied quickly, a tad too enthusiastic. “It's not like I could actually be friends with anyone that hates my tangents, you know? Not that we're _friends—_ I'd like to be, though. What do you think?”

His response to that was, “I don't have any pets.”

“...Pardon?”

“For your icebreaker,” he clarified, reaching up and running a hand through his hair. “Friends—friends know about each other, right? Now you know more than before.”

“Oh,” she said. “Same.”

There was a beat of silence.

“The no pet thing, I mean,” Marinette hastily said. “I'm really making this more awkward than it has to be, aren't I? Sorry, I'll just get back to work—”

“I understood it,” Adrien assured her. “I just didn't know what to say.”

And at that moment, she wholly understood that.

Her parting gesture to him was to pretend her fingers were guns and to shoot him, something that she lamented about when she'd turned on her heel and started to walk back across the room.

His laughter was quiet.

-x-

“Woe is me.”

Marinette steadily ignored the lamenting of her room-mate, kicking at Chloé's legs to make her lift them up so she could walk past without changing direction. Of course, it caused Chloé to groan and complain more, but it was worth it to be able to clean easier.

“Mari, I said woe is _me_.”

She hummed.

“You're actually the worst.”

Marinette held back her laughter.

Chloé sighed louder, stretching out and putting her feet back up on the coffee table, posture screaming nothing but being far too comfortable.

With another kick, Chloé's feet were off of the table again.

“I'm not doing your laundry for you.”

“But the machine's _broken_ ,” Chloé dramatically replied, putting the back of her hand to her forehead, even going as far as to close her eyes. “You don't really want me to go outside in this awful weather, do you?”

She snorted. “Allergies do not give you a free pass to wish rain and misery upon us all the time, you know. I literally don't care that you sniffle pathetically in the sun.”

“And get a rash,” Chloé pointed out. “A _rash_ , Marinette. Do you really want that for me?”

There was no hesitation in her reply of, “Yes.”

“Fuck you,” Chloé said, no heat to her words. “I'm not going out any more than I have to. You can't make me.”

“You'll just have to have no underwear, then.”

Chloé tried to stretch out and kick her to return the favour. “Stop being a dick.”

“And what, do your chores?” she questioned, going as far as to put her hands on her hips. “Unless you promise to cook and not spike the food with your shitty seasoning, I won't take your shit to the laundromat.”

Chloé sniffed. “It's not my fault you always try and steal my food.”

“You have really questionable taste,” she retorted. “It's just— _gross_. There's always that weird aftertaste.”

“Fine, I'll cook for the both of us,” Chloé said with a sigh, giving in quickly. “But only if you go to the store, too.”

She frowned. “Really?”

“Really,” Chloé confirmed. “I'm picky.”

With a small list on her phone—a text from Chloé that kept being added to—Marintte made her way to the nearest supermarket, squinting up at the sun when she stepped outside. The weather had started to warm up considerably, the brightness of the sky becoming lighter by the day, and it caused Chloé to grumble and complain about her problems more than normal.

Which was a feat for her.

It was as she turned the corner towards the store that someone she knew walked out.

She almost didn't recognise him because of the hat.

“Adrien!” she called, raising a hand to wave as he was about to walk in the opposite direction, not even facing her.

He paused, turning to look over his shoulder, confusion visible on his face. “Marinette?”

“Yeah,” she confirmed with a smile, coming to stand beside him. “Fancy seeing you here, eh? It seems I'm only able to see you at work or this store, that's it.”

His answering smile was small, but it was genuine. “I'm starting to think you're stalking me.”

“ _Me_?” she gasped. “You're the one that comes to see me during the week! You can't blame me for wanting to see you again.”

The corner of his eyes crinkled as he beamed. “Can't you try a more normal way?”

“Is that you offering to give me your number?” she questioned.

He shifted his feet. “Maybe.”

And even though they were outside—Marinette able to wear bright colours instead of her designated ones at work—but it didn't feel as awkward or stilted. She wasn't just making conversation with him because she wanted to take his order, but because she actually wanted to talk to him again.

When she fished out her phone from her pocket, Marinette type in her passcode as she said, “If you're lying, I'm well within my rights to spike your drink.”

“...I don't think you are.”

“That's not the answer I'm looking for,” she said, turning the device around and offering it to him. “Also, if you run off without giving me your number, I'll only be a little hurt.”

His gaze flickered between the phone and her face. “You... you actually want it?”

There was something so terribly shy about him that she didn't understand. They didn't actually know each other, sure, but they'd been talking for months a few times a week, without Marinette hovering at his table for a minute or two, trying to find out more about him.

Was it that hard for him to see her intentions were genuine?

“As you said, I need a more normal way to talk to you, right?” she replied, putting the phone into his hand. “I'm not really cut out for this stalking thing.”

Hesitantly, he took the device from her. Then, as he proclaimed that he didn't actually know his number, he had to take his own phone out, juggling the plastic bags in his grip and her phone as he tried to reach into his pocket.

“I'm the same,” she assured him. “That's why I gave my phone to you. I kind of hoped that you'd be the smart one out of us two.”

He beamed as he passed her phone back to her. “You expected too much of me.”

“Yes, clearly,” Marinette agreed, smile reaching her eyes. “Thank you for that. I'll let you get back to—well, whatever you were doing before I called you over.”

With a pointed look down to the bags in his hand, he replied, “Going home?”

She shrugged. “Yes.”

“I—okay,” Adrien said, voice as soft as his smile. “Have a nice weekend, Marinette.”

And it was.

Chloé actually held up her end of the deal and made dinner when Marinette went back out to wash their clothes, and the food wasn't ruined with Chloé terrible choice of seasoning and sauces to include in it (they were still present at the table, though).

And when she remembered to message Adrien the following day, as she actually hadn't given him her number, his reply only took a few hours for the first one. It was clear that he didn't care about capitalising anything in the text, punctuation not consistent at all, and he seemed far more relaxed than he had in person.

But that was only discovered after she broke the awkward small talk of asking how each other was by asking random questions, or even giving a commentary on what she was doing and why she _hated_ it.

Adrien responded better to her complaining, apparently.

She didn't blame him there. It was bound to be more amusing than her talking about the weather—which, thankfully, she hadn't resorted to—and complaining about the television show she was watching with Chloé made it so it was more enjoyable for her, too.

It turned out that Adrien knew of it and also disliked it, so that helped.

Chloé was offended by her not paying attention, though.

“How the hell are you even texting?” Chloé complained, shoving her legs on top of Marinette's lap, almost knocking the phone out of her hands in the process. “This is supposed to be the exciting part, come on.”

She snorted. “I'm not texting him that much.”

“You usually give me all your complaints,” Chloé pointed out. “That's why I pick this shit to watch with you. You're depriving me of my entertainment.”

“But I'm amusing myself with this,” Marinette protested. “Plus, he hates it, too. He understands me.”

Chloé helpfully replied, “I hate everything.”

“Yeah, and I hate you.”

-x-

When Adrien came into her work, he was the one to acknowledge that they'd strayed away from their usual topics. He shyly asked whether she'd listened to a new song that had come out the previous day—since they found out that they had a similar taste in music—and he hovered at the counter for a bit while Juleka made his drink, staying there until a customer came through the door.

She snagged his tray from Juleka to take his order over to him, starting the conversation right back up.

There was no visibly stiff shoulders, his eyes weren't darting away from hers, and he wasn't trying to make her stop talking—that was always a good sign that someone wanted to be her friend right back, wasn't it?

For someone that hadn't believed that she'd wanted to talk to him outside of work, he'd opened up to the idea pretty quickly.

He said good-bye on his way out, and when she checked her phone after work, she did have one message from him. It started up a chain of messages between them for a few hours before he admitted that he needed to concentrate on his work for a while, that he wouldn't reply, and by the time that he had replied to her, she'd already been asleep for a while, not seeing the message until the morning.

He was nice, she concluded.

Adrien continued to type away in the corner of the store during the weekdays, steadily started to message her in the evenings—the two of them finding out that they had a lot of similar interests, or things that they admired—and it was in person that he shyly admitted that he worked as a translator.

Chloé's response to being told about her budding friendship with Adrien was to let out a really fake laugh. “Him, really?”

Marinette reached over and flicked her shoulder. “It's not my fault you freak him out.”

“Bitch, he wouldn't even look me in the eyes yesterday.”

“...You stared at him for, like, two minutes before I threw a napkin at you,” Marinette pointed out. “I wouldn't look at you either. It's just weird, Chloé.”

Chloé threw her hands up in exasperation. “That's the point!”

“He's a nice kind of weird,” she defended him. “It's not like he's showing me his bug collection or something, you know? He's just awkward—like me.”

Chloé snorted. “You look like a social butterfly compared to him.”

“I think you're just jealous there's another blond in my life,” she mused, patting her friend's shoulder sympathetically. “There, there. I know it's completely natural, it's okay.”

“Fuck you.”

She snickered. “No, thanks.”

“The attention I'm getting from you is dwindling,” Chloé proclaimed, dramatically draping herself across the arm of the sofa. “I'm withering away, Mari. Can't you see my skin getting drier?”

She didn't even roll her eyes. “I hate to tell you this, but that's really not how your body works.”

Chloé sniffed. “It's not like you'd know, you haven't been looking at me.”

“Oh, fine,” she said, giving in. “I'll ignore my phone for tonight, okay? Stop your fucking whining.”

“No, that just sounds like we're in an abusive relationship,” Chloé mused, pushing herself up to stand normally, adjusting her clothing so it was on properly again. “I have a better idea than that.”

Marinette narrowed her eyes. “No.”

“What?” Chloé asked. “I haven't even said it yet!”

“I don't like your ideas,” was her response.

Chloé's smile just looked smug. “Yeah, but you like me. You'll give in anyway, so let's just go with it, okay?”

And that was how she ended up going into work the following day hungover, headache annoying and prominent, and she hadn't bothered putting on any make-up that morning. Juleka looked at her with raised eyebrows, asking whether Chloé was the one responsible for it or not, and Marinette was sure that her expression was a good enough answer.

Still, when Chloé strolled in around noon, she had to admire how well Chloé was able to hide her suffering.

It was behind overly large sunglasses that matched her nice-looking outfit, not looking out of place.

“Hey, loser,” Chloé said as she sauntered up to the till. “You're looking a little... dead.”

She snorted. “Golly, that's just what I wanted to hear.”

“ _Golly_?”

“Shut up and tell me your order,” she muttered.

Chloé's laughter wasn't forced. “That's asking two very different things there.”

“You know what?” Marinette started, tapping away at the screen. “I'm not even going to let you pick. Give me your money and fuck off.”

Chloé wasn't at all upset. “I preferred it when you were saying golly.”

“That was barely a minute ago.”

“Yeah, and you were nicer then,” Chloé proclaimed, amusement clear in her voice. “Just give me my change later, yeah? I need to do something.”

The day got even worse then. Adrien had managed to come through the entrance right at that moment, and Chloé wasted no time in turning around with a flourish—causing her hair to whip over her shoulder—and marching straight up to him.

Marinette didn't have the energy to stop her.

It was normal behaviour for her—the jealousy. Chloé liked to be the centre of attention at all times, liked to be viewed as someone good by the people she liked, even if she was sharp-tongued and tended to offend others with her off-handed remarks, and when she wormed her way into Marinette's life, she did it very quickly.

Chloé was fully aware of her flaws, only apologised in a way that didn't seem to be an apology at all, and she was up front if anything ever bothered her.

So, what was bothering her then was Adrien, clearly.

There was another customer, so she couldn't try and listen in to what the two of them were saying, but Adrien did come up after a few minutes. His face was visibly red along his cheeks and there was a frown on his lips, but his expression brightened up when he met her gaze.

“Hi,” he greeted her, a lot of enthusiasm in that one word.

Chloé had sauntered off to a table, not bothering him any more.

“Hey, you,” she returned, a genuine smile reaching her blue-coloured eyes. “I was half expecting you to turn around and leave because of Chloé.”

His smile was lopsided. “And deprive you of my company?”

“Yes, these few minutes really are the highlight of my day,” she teased. “You wouldn't just let me go without them, would you?”

“Exactly,” he agreed. “She just asked me not to text you while you're together.”

She stifled a laugh. “We live together.”

He looked thoughtful. “Is that supposed to mean all of the time?”

“She's just being a bit overprotective, don't mind her,” Marinette decided to reply as she reached up to tuck some hairs behind her ears. “It's not that she dislikes you—well, she does, but only because she doesn't _know_ you, you know? Chloé's does things in her own special way.”

And as she realised that she'd rambled again, Adrien was nodding along with her points. “It's... it must be nice to have someone like that,” he said, ever-so-quietly that she almost didn't hear him.

She beamed. “It is.”

Chloé didn't bother him when he went to sit at his usual table. Instead, she went on the bench so she could stare at Marinette instead, purposely lifting a hand and gesturing with her index finger for Marinette to come closer with her order.

Marinette huffed as she put Chloé's order onto the bench. “You're a dick.”

“Yeah, fuck you,” was the answer she got to that, along with a light slap to get her hand off of the drink. “You should be happy that I'm here at all.”

Marinette stuck up her middle finger as she walked away.

She had to text Adrien first that evening.

It wasn't a secret that he was more confident while messaging her. Sure, he'd perked up in the time that they'd known each other, advancing onto him joking and being more comfortable, but his text replies were a lot more eloquent, if that was the right way to describe them. There was no chance for him to stutter, to visibly regret what he'd said until heard her laugh, but there were times where it was clear that he was taking longer than normal to reply to her.

But it was kind of nice.

Marinette didn't have that many friends, not really. She had Chloé—who she'd met back in her first year of university—and it was a surprise that they'd become friends at all. And for them to move in together afterwards?

It must've used up all of her luck.

Chloé was much the same, though. Marinette was kind of inspired by her at times, mostly because she had no problems with telling someone what was on her mind, even if it would cost her their friendship in the process.

“I don't have time for any bullshit,” was Chloé's explanation for her lifestyle.

And it made sense, it did. It was just—Marinette didn't think she'd have to guts to do that with most people. She tended to stay quiet with her problems until they bubbled over, coming out all at once and causing more trouble in the process.

But that was why she liked talking to Adrien.

It was a change for the usual; someone new in her contact list popping up multiple times a day, and the fact that he was reciprocating, not making it seemed as though she was holding a one-sided conversation, made it even better.

With that thought in mind, she asked him about his thoughts on shows they'd watched when they were younger.

His response was very enthusiastic, matching her own feelings at that moment.

It made her feel happy.

She brought it up face-to-face the next time he came into the store, telling him how she'd listened to the theme song—and got told to be quiet from Chloé because of it—and it was absolutely worth it to see the smile on his face, whole posture a lot more relaxed than it had been in the past.

While they didn't talk much in person, he told her a lot more through their messages. She learned that he was usually doing his job when he came to her work during the week, that the amount they had in common was increasing, and he found it amusing whenever she went on rants.

In his words, though, it was more entertaining when she was actually talking to him, as he was able to see her move her hands along with her words.

It wasn't something she'd ever noticed she did much.

And because of that, she asked Chloé, “Do I move my hands a lot?”

Chloé didn't even look up from her phone. “Yeah, sure.”

“I'm serious!” she exclaimed, jumping to sit down onto the sofa beside Chloé, making it so her friend was jostled in the process. “Is that something I do? I've never really thought about it before, but isn't that something to be self-conscious about? Maybe. I don't know.”

“I literally do not care about your breakdown right now,” was Chloé's bored reply. “I'm busy.”

She grumbled, “You're the worst friend in the world.”

“Love you, too.”

Marinette threw a pillow at her.

-x-

Her first venture out in person with Adrien, where they didn't both run into each other at the store, was to their local cinema. It turned out that while he lived in the opposite direction to her from the store they'd been in, he was still rather near, near enough for him to walk into her work whenever he wanted to come in.

And thus, it was their idea to walk to the cinema instead of either of them driving.

Adrien greeting her was interrupted with a sneeze.

He looked so embarrassed at that that she couldn't help but laugh before offering him a tissue from her bag.

“You bring tissues out with you?” he questioned afterwards.

She grinned. “Being prepared is good, right?”

“People usually say that about sexier things.”

Marinette snorted. “There's nothing sexy about a snotty nose.”

“You're truly prepared, then,” he mused. “I'm sorry for doubting you there.”

“You're forgiven,” she announced, a spring in her step as they continued to walk.

Adrien laughed at how enthusiastic she was.

“I'm just excited for the film,” she protested as he pointed out how happy she seemed to be. “Plus, I managed to convince you to come with me. Chloé's absolutely refusing to come along, so I wasn't planning to come at all.”

He ran a hand through his hair. “You didn't have to do much to convince me.”

With a laugh, she replied, “Because you have good taste!”

The film was as good as she'd expected.

It dragged at some points, but the snacks she shared with Adrien were good, and the amount they had to talk about afterwards was a lot. As they talked, walking outside and being hit with the cold breeze of the evening, a stark difference to the sunny afternoon when they'd met, Marinette asked whether he wanted to grab something to eat.

And to her surprise, he agreed.

They ended up in a cramped diner, across from each other in a booth, but Adrien was so tall that their knees kept touching underneath the table. It was clear from how much he was shifting that he wasn't exactly comfortable, so she tucked her legs underneath her on the seat, sitting as weirdly as she would at home.

“Better?”

He smiled gratefully. “You didn't have to—”

“It's fine,” Marinette assured him.

The food was lukewarm, the hot drinks were far too bitter, but her cheeks were hurting from laughter by the time they'd only eaten half of their food. Adrien had loosened up considerably, able to tell her the jokes that he'd usually say over text, but there was a certain charm to them when they were actually said with his voice.

And when he shyly ducked his head and took a sip of his drink, only to scrunch his facial features up in distaste, it made her smile wider.

“We should do this again,” she proposed, putting her hands into the pockets of her jacket as they walked outside. “It was nice seeing outside of your natural habitat.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Wouldn't it be yours because _you_ work there?”

“Maybe I meant the store,” she teased.

“You've only seen me there twice,” Adrien defended himself with a laugh. “That's hardly enough to qualify as my home.”

She shrugged. “Who knows?”

“I know!” he exclaimed, a lot louder than he'd ever been. But he didn't recoil, ears didn't grow red from embarrassment—instead, Adrien continued on to say, “And, maybe, if you're nice, you'll find out.”

It was that that had her cocking her head to the side. “Is that you inviting me back to your home?”

“No, no,” he hastily denied, shaking his head so quickly that it caused his hair to move. “I—that's _not_ what I meant, I swear. I'd never—”

“I was kidding,” Marinette interjected, smiling wide despite feeling a little bad from his reaction. “I'm pretty sure you're too shy for that.”

Adrien stuttered out, “I—shy?”

“I mean, yeah?” It came out sounding like a question. “I can't imagine you being so suave and inviting me back for some nefarious reason. Maybe to see your book collection, but that's it.”

His ears were red as he crossed his arms. “I wouldn't do that.”

“Oh, I don't even deserve to see your books now?” she questioned, trying not to laugh. “I'm offended now.”

“I wouldn't trust you with them.”

The laughter did come out at that. “That's even worse!”

“I don't know enough about you yet to let you into my home,” Adrien said, his elbow brushing hers as they walked. “I need half of your life story first, at least.”

“Okay, my requirements for taking someone home aren't quite that high,” she mused. “Maybe someone that can tolerate Chloé. I've never—there's never been a situation where I've had to have her out when I've brought someone back yet.”

He looked surprise. “Are you—”

“Not because of sexy things,” she hastily explained. Then, with her cheeks warming up, she pushed her hands deeper into her pockets and added on, “I mean, for you it would be so she wouldn't glare at you the whole time.”

“She sounds like a jealous pet.”

She threw her head back and laughed. “If anything, I'm the pet in our relationship.”

“Does she treat you well, then?” Adrien questioned, playing along.

“Occasionally,” she said. “There's a bit of heavy petting sometimes.”

He choked on his laughter.

The laughter that escaped her was even louder.

-x-

Adrien was definitely her friend.

He was bright—chipper, even—when he came into the store to greet her, hovered at the counter to talk to her unless there was a queue behind him, and the amount they spoke doubled. At times, it included calls, but that was rare.

They continued to meet up, too. Whether it was to go to the cinema again—since they'd enjoyed it so much the first time—or to just wander around town before getting lunch when the original goal had been for Marinette to find something specific.

Alongside Chloé, it was easy for him to become one of her closest friends. She didn't have many people that she stayed in contact with; a few from university, but they'd moved back to their homes a few hours away, and while she was close with Juleka at work, they didn't meet outside of that time often.

So, when it came time for Marinette's birthday, Chloé wasn't secretive about it at all.

“You want me to invite that dude, don't you?”

“Adrien,” she corrected. “Stop being petty.”

Chloé's dislike for Adrien hadn't lessened, but she hadn't gone out of her way to be rude to him any more—well, other than frowning at him whenever they crossed paths at the store, but that was about it. Marinette hadn't brought him back to their apartment, hadn't planned anything for the three of them to be together, and she'd been hoping to keep it that way.

She wasn't naïve enough to believe that her friends had to be friends.

When it came time for it, her birthday was a small affair. Adrien had dodged the subject whenever she'd brought it up, but it was clear that he knew what was going on, though he was terrible at lying. He tended to avoid eye contact, reaching up to scratch at his head or run his fingers through his hair when he was confronted, and when he told her a lie, his voice went a bit higher-pitched than usual, even if it was something silly.

It was amusing things like that that she learned about him.

The plan was for her to have an evening with friends before she went to visit her parents the following day, but it was on her actual birthday that she spent time with her friends.

She made a cake with Chloé.

It was uncooked in the middle, so they covered in it in more icing. It was a bit lopsided, not the best that she'd ever seen, but she refused to let Chloé throw it away and replace it with one from a store instead.

They had friends over to their apartment. Juleka came along with her girlfriend, who Marinette had only met a couple of times at work, along with a few almost friends that Marinette had met through Chloé (that she didn't know enough to really want to spend _more_ time with them—but they were there for nights out and other things, if Chloé was coming), and the last to arrive was Adrien.

She hugged him on sight.

“I'm so glad you're here,” she said, taking her arms back to herself in a split second when she'd realise how he stiffened from the contact. “Sorry, should've asked if it was okay first.”

“No, I—I was just surprised, that's all,” Adrien quickly said, fidgeting on the spot before he awkwardly thrust the wrapped present into her chest. “This is for you.”

She stumbled a bit. “Are you trying to knock me out?”

“You know you're already a knockout, Marinette,” he retorted.

It was those kind of comments that he hadn't had the confidence to say to her before. But they'd known each other for months—even including the time they'd actually been _friends_. Adrien was still shy at times, seemingly unsure on what boundaries there were between friends, and he almost always asked permission before he did anything.

She winked. “And now you've wormed your way into my home _with_ Chloé here. Feel blessed, Adrien.”

He raised a fist into the air as though he was celebrating. “I've really hit my peak.”

“Honestly, you hit that ages ago,” she remarked. “It's only downhill from here.”

And as he tried to frown at her, she could see him holding back a smile. “That's really good for my self-esteem, thank you.”

She beamed, linking her arm through his as she ushered him into her home. “You're very welcome.”

The night was only a little awkward. Juleka loosened up and spoke a bit more when she'd had some alcohol, and everyone started mingling more after a while. Adrien was shy with most, only sipping at his drinks, while Chloé was doing her best to try and make Marinette down shots.

She grimaced. “I'm going to regret this.”

“Oh, don't be so dramatic,” Chloé scolded, tossing her long hair over her shoulder. “I'm matching you, see? We'll get fucked up together.”

“We're not even drinking the same thing—”

Chloé interrupted with, “Yeah, because you think this tastes like shit.”

Even the thought of Chloé's drink made her stomach turn. “It does! It has this, like, I don't know... weird taste to it? I can't describe it, but it's bad.”

“ _You're_ bad,” Chloé grumbled.

“You're so mature,” Marinette commented, fanning her face. “You're getting me all flustered here.”

Chloé laughed. “Shut up and drink.”

“Fine, fine.”

It burned her throat and she made a gagging noise afterwards, only for Chloé to wrap her arm around her shoulder in a half-hearted hug that she happily turned into a real one.

The music was loud in their apartment, but they were smart enough to warn their neighbours that there would be a bit of noise that evening—well, Marinette had, as Chloé had scoffed at that idea, absolutely refusing to be a part of it. As nice as Marinette thought Chloé was, a lot of other people had different opinions about her.

Everyone sang to her when she cut the undercooked cake.

Then, since it didn't taste very good, Chloé rumbled through a cupboard for their stash of syrups and sauces, putting them all on the side for everyone to help themselves to.

Marinette put a plate with cake on it into Adrien's empty hands. “Come on, you,” she said, coaxing him over to the kitchen. “You have to have some of my mediocre cake.”

“It looks a bit... wet.”

“Only in the middle,” she pointed out. “You can just eat around it.”

He didn't put up any fight to that. For most of the evening, when he wasn't talking to her, he'd mostly been in the presence of Juleka and her girlfriend, probably because Juleka was the second most friendly face that he recognised (clearly, as Chloé frowned at him when he said hello to her).

The selection of things to mask the bland taste of the cake wasn't much, but when Adrien got to it, he was staring at the bottles for longer than necessary.

She bumped her shoulder gently against his. “Nothing you like?”

“I—what?” he spluttered, sounding as surprised as he looked as he turned to face her. “What did you say?”

His green-coloured eyes were wide, too.

“Sauces?” she questioned, gesturing towards the countertop in front of them. “You know, for the cake? I think we might have some cream in the fridge, if you want that instead.”

He cleared his throat. “Right, right.”

But then he didn't make a move to reach out to any of them.

It occurred to her that she might've been pressuring him into it. He never ordered anything to eat at work, only sticking to drinks, but she had seen him eat sweet things “You don't have to eat it, really.”

“No, I—” Adrien cut himself off, closing his mouth for a moment. “I want to.”

She enquired, “Are you sure?”

“Really,” he assured her. “I just... I want to ask you something.”

It was the way he kept interrupting himself that made her wonder whether it was serious or not. Adrien hadn't been so tongue-tied with her in a while, especially not over the subject of cake.

“Okay,” she agreed.

She could see it as he swallowed.

But the question wasn't what she was expecting at all. Transferring the plate into one hand, he reached out with the other and tapped the lid of one of the bottles. “Who's is this?”

She blinked. “Chloé's.”

The hand fell back to his side, but he didn't say anything.

“It tastes terrible, so I wouldn't recommend it,” Marinette continued on, pulling a face to convey her disgust. “Like, super sweet and with a weird aftertaste. I hate it.”

“...You—you've had it?”

“I steal some food off her sometimes, okay?” Marinette readily explained. “It's not like she doesn't do it to me—it's _fair_ , but I swear she covers hers in this kind of crap just to make me cry. She knows I hate it.”

He opened his mouth to say something, but clearly thought better of it since he stayed silent, pursing his lips once more.

One of Chloé's friend came up and made conversation with them then, pushing the evening along.

Adrien didn't put anything on his cake.

-x-

She should've maybe seen it coming.

Okay, that was an overstatement.

Marinette wasn't good with her feelings; her small group of friends were evidence of that, along with her pitiful social life outside of work. Most of the time, the only times she went out were when Adrien or Chloé wanted to go somewhere with her.

Even though it was nearing autumn, the weather was still ridiculously hot. She wore the appropriate clothing at work, suffering and standing in front of the fan when there weren't any customers to serve, so it wasn't a stretch that she'd want to do something cooling in her free time.

And since Chloé was busy at work at the weekend, it was Adrien that she reached out to.

He was more than happy to go swimming with her, only on the condition that it would be inside.

She agreed without hesitation.

They'd known each other for six months at that point, been close for two or so, and it was because of that that she felt comfortable with him. She didn't think too hard about what swimsuit she brought along with her, or worry that she'd look weird without make-up in the water, and she barely thought about how her body would look.

Adrien picked her up, smiling brightly as she climbed into his car.

It didn't even cross her mind to wonder how he'd look.

They met in the pool after going to the different sections to change, and although her eyes did stray to his revealed lithe body—a lot more than she'd seen previously—it wasn't until they were actually in the water and he was pushing his wet hair back off of his face that she was hit with a realisation.

Adrien was really attractive.

It seemed so stupid when she thought about it later. He'd always had attractive features, a face that was nice to look at, but she'd been more concerned with making him feel comfortable about her, wanting to be his friend. And once they'd actually become friends—enough for him to text her in the middle of the night with a strange thought—she'd never thought about him in any other way.

She was baffled that he was so alone.

Then, he splashed her in the face.

She started to understand it.

“You're a jerk!” she exclaimed, trying to retaliate.

Adrien just laughed, holding his arm up to try and stop the water from hitting him in the face. “You were staring, I had to do something.”

“I'm absolutely allowed to stare at you,” she said, crossing her arms. “It's payback for all the stares you gave me in the beginning.”

Even when she was wearing such a small outfit, his eyes didn't stray from hers. “I-I don't know what you're talking about.”

The crack in his voice made her grin. “Oh, really?”

“Really.” His voice was higher-pitched than usual. “You're clearly imagining things.”

She made a non-committal noise. “I'm sure.”

“I will turn around and drown myself,” he boldly proclaimed.

Marinette snickered. “Behind you is the shallow end.”

“For dramatic effect,” he insisted. “It'll be even more traumatic for you this way.”

“For _me_?” she repeated with a laugh. “You're thinking mighty highly of yourself.”

Adrien smiled widely, indents visible on his cheeks. “Are you trying to say I mean nothing to you?”

The smile really didn't match the words.

“Maybe,” she replied with a shrug. “Who knows. You can go drown and we'll find out.”

“No, no, I'm over that phase now.” And when he reached up to push his hair back again, she couldn't help but stare at the droplets that fell down his face. “I'd rather stick around and continue seeing your face for a bit longer.”

She couldn't help but say, “You mean stare at.”

He purposely sunk lower, making it so his chin was submerged in the water. “I haven't stared at you in ages!”

It was his wording that she latched onto. “So, you're admitting that you did.”

“I—no,” he hastily said, spluttering as he stood up properly again. Unlike Marinette, who had the water up to her shoulders, it was only around his waist. “That's not—I _didn't_.”

As cute as it was to see him squirm, she put him out of his misery by patting his shoulder in sympathy. “There, there. I'm only teasing you.”

The redness on his cheeks was very visible.

With a hand coming up to touch the nape of his neck, Adrien didn't look her in the eyes as he quietly said, “It wasn't like that.”

She made a questioning noise, dropping her arm back down by her side.

“I just... I thought you were nice,” he continued on, his shoulder slumped, a direct contrast to the bright and confident friend that she'd been beside before. “I really didn't mean to be creepy about it, okay? I—you were nice, that's all.”

It was a compliment.

And although she would've liked to know more, just to understand his trail of thought about why he'd thought that it at all, she decided to ask, “Past tense?”

He gave her a half-hearted smile. “Well, now I know how mean you are.”

“How dare you.” She sniffed. “I'm nothing but pure and wonderful.”

That statement was severely counteracted when she admired how he looked when he was wet again. It wasn't—it wasn't _lust_.

It was just admiring, wasn't it?

Adrien had wormed his way into her tiny friendship circle, successfully beating the spot that Juleka had had in her contact list within a few weeks, and it was his personality that she liked most.

Still, it was a bit weird that she was suddenly noticing how nice his looks were—apparently, all he needed to do was take most of his clothing off.

She jumped on his back and caused him to fall forward into the water for that.

It seemed that Adrien taking off his shirt was the start of everything; or, rather, or downfall, as she liked to think of it as.

It started off with her noticing more things about him—more than how he looked with most of his clothing off.

While it wasn't a secret that he didn't have any other friends. Adrien never mentioned them when he told her what he'd done over the free time, and there was also a lack of family members, but he enjoyed asking about her own. Marinette was more than happy to tell him about them, and when they spoke about it in person, there wasn't a sad slump to his shoulders or a frown on his lips to say that he wasn't genuinely interested.

So, he was a loner, for some reason.

She didn't understand that.

Adrien was shy at first, terribly awkward, especially with the staring, but once she'd gotten to know him, she liked him more and more. She'd never found herself frustrated with the way he paused mid-sentence sometimes, thinking about the answer, and how easily he blushed made it convenient to know how he was feeling.

She knew his tells from when he was feeling awkward; the way he ran a hand through his hair or touched the nape of his neck, fiddling.

He had blond on the end of his eyelashes.

It was that last detail that she noticed when they went out for dinner after going to the cinema again, a routine that the two of them had started to regularly do. While Chloé was displeased that she couldn't drag Marintte out to watch it with her first, Chloé had denied tagging along with them to save the trouble of Marinette seeing it twice.

But, of course, Chloé wasn't going to do that.

Adrien was visibly relieved whenever she said Chloé wasn't joining them.

And that was fine, truly. Her friends didn't have to like each other, and as long as they didn't fight and expect her to pick sides, she was absolutely fine with that.

It didn't stop her from trying to get them together, though.

Chloé was still being petty and openly frowning at him whenever they crossed paths at the coffee-shop, but that was about it. She wasn't sitting at his table or trying to talk to him, thankfully, and Adrien was the type to avoid confrontation, wanting it to be sorted out by itself, rather than him having to interfere with it.

She didn't quite agree with that view of life, but it wasn't her place to say.

But along with her other observations, she was also aware that he was becoming so-very-comfortable with her; whether it was their knees touching until the table and him not recoiling away, or how he leaned over and bumped his shoulder against her during certain scenes in the cinema, or the way he wasn't shy about plucking a stray petal out of her hair after telling her to stay still.

It made her chest feel warm.

She wasn't too oblivious to not realise what it meant.

But Adrien—he didn't have anyone _else_. Juleka had started to talk to him at work, but that wasn't a friendship. And his odd relationship with Chloé definitely couldn't have been classed as friendship in any way.

That observation of hers was all but confirmed when she went to his apartment for the first time.

It was larger than her own, had two bedrooms and a single bathroom, and the quality of it was nice. She admired the paintings on the walls, the rug in the middle of the hallway before they got into the kitchen, and the brightly-coloured utensils clearly showed that he had an interest in using them.

He gave her a mug that was shaped like an animal.

When he offered to cook for her, he'd sounded nervous, but he didn't seem it in person. Marinette was able to see the kitchen from where she was sat on the sofa, able to talk to him without raising her voice too much (which was good, since he ushered her away whenever she offered to help).

The only framed photograph that she could see was beside his television, alongside a few potted plants. It was clearly Adrien, only hair hair was longer, and him and his two friends were dressed outrageously, all of them going for the same retro-looking theme.

It looked like all of them were having fun.

It made her frown.

He didn't—he hadn't mentioned anyone, not really. There had been a few mentions of the people he did translations for, but he didn't see them any time apart from that.

It would've just been rude for her to ask him if he had any friends. The fact that he'd never mentioned meeting up with anyone was telling enough, wasn't it?

And as much as she wanted to be a good friend for him, she was only one person. He needed more than that, didn't he?

It wasn't her place to decide what was healthy for him—or try and fix him in any way. If Adrien was happy as he was, then she was, too.

It just made her a little sad, that was all.

That was within her rights.

-x-

“I don't like him,” Chloé proclaimed, using her foot to knock the phone out of Marinette's as she put her legs on top of hers. “Therefore, I absolutely forbid you to date him.”

She spluttered, “I—fuck off.”

“Eloquent,” Chloé remarked.

“You don't know what you're talking about,” Marinette grumbled, pushing Chloé's legs off of her and crossing her legs instead, making sure to not touch the large bruise there. “Not at all.”

Chloé snorted. “Yeah, right. I've seen that pining before.”

“Oh, come on—”

“The point,” Chloé interrupted her with, “is that I know you, and I know who you want to bone.”

With a sigh, Marinette ran a hand over her face. “Am I really that obvious?”

“If Juleka hasn't noticed, she's useless,” was the reply to that. “If you start dating him, I'm going to have to see him even more, and that's really _not_ what I want.”

She questioned, “That's your only concern?”

“I hear enough about him already,” Chloé pointed out. “Albert this, Albert that—”

Marinette didn't rise to the bait and correct the name. “I really don't understand why you dislike him.”

Chloé waved her hand dismissively as she corrected, “I dislike everyone.”

“Yeah, everyone but me, apparently,” she muttered. “If you actually tried to get along, you'd notice that he's not too bad! I'm sure you'll have something in common.”

Chloé snorted. “Right.”

“No, really,” Marinette insisted. “You two can bond over sauces, right? That's a thing. It's totally a thing.”

“Excuse me?” Chloé said dramatically, sounding so-very-offended. “Are you trying to make me get saucy with your boyfriend?”

Her face felt a bit warm. “He's not my boyfriend.”

“Yeah, sure.” Chloé didn't sound convinced.

She shrugged. “He does have that terrible sauce you like, though. But unlike you, he didn't smother our food in it before thinking about me.”

“I forget _one_ time—” Chloé started before cutting herself off, the way her expression grew incredulous in seconds almost making Marinette laugh in surprise. “What did you just say?”

Marinette blinked. “What?”

“I knew it!” she exclaimed, quickly standing up and running out of the living room, straight into her bedroom.

Marinette watched her go in utter bewilderment.

The conversation was mostly forgotten, not referenced again, and it was when the leaves were changing colour and the weather was getting cooler that Chloé made her presence known in front of Adrien.

However, it was supposed to be the night that she was gone.

“Chloé?” Marinette questioned, surprised. “I thought you were going out.”

It was the only way that she could get Adrien to agree to come over to hers for dinner, just to repay him for the previous time over at his. Adrien had been funny about coming over before, and it didn't take a genius to realise that it was because of her room-mate.

Her room-mate who was supposed to be out with her other friends.

“Yes, well, I changed my mind,” Chloé replied, coming forward and grabbing onto Adrien's arm, tugging him in further.

He didn't even have time to take his shoes off before he was shoved inside Chloé's room.

As much as Marinette wanted to interfere, she doubted that Adrien needed her to do that. He was more than capable of resisting Chloé's hold, able to walk away if he didn't want to be there, so she padded over to the kitchen to make drinks for when he came out.

She was nervous about their interactions, but wasn't that what she wanted? Chloé must've had a good reason to pull him aside like that—she'd never done that with anyone else that Marinette had brought home.

The way she'd phrased that made her feel embarrassed.

It wasn't—it wasn't like _that_ , no matter how much she wanted it to be. She was more than aware of the feelings that she had for him, but she was more determined to be his friend, rather than seeing if anything more would happen. If he felt the same way—no matter how strange that seemed to her—only then would she do anything.

She'd absolutely let him sway their friendship.

It seemed like a lifetime before the two emerged from Chloé's bedroom, but in reality, it had only been a few minutes. Their voices had been hushed, not able to be heard, and she knew that that meant that Chloé wasn't mad.

She wasn't good at not shouting when she was angry, just like Marinette had an annoying habit of crying whenever she was mad.

Adrien was fidgeting as he came to stand by her in the kitchen, his fingertips playing with the sleeve of his jumper.

Chloé, on the hand, seemed completely fine, putting the strap of her bag onto her shoulder and walking past the two of them while raising her middle finger. There was no further communication than that before she was out of the door, slamming it behind her.

Marinette was too confused by the sudden exit to shout anything back.

“I—what?” she murmured, bewildered. “What did she even say to you?”

“It...” Adrien trailed off, clearing his throat. “It was more like her staring at me?”

She sighed. “Really?”

“There was a little said,” he admitted. “After that, she stared and tried to get me to respond, I think. She gave up quickly.”

It didn't escape her notice that he wasn't saying what was actually said. “She didn't give you the shovel talk or something, did she?”

“No, I—” Adrien paused, reaching up to touch his neck. “It wasn't anything about you.”

But it wasn't as though him and Chloé were close enough to have inside—or even any jokes at all. “If you say so.”

“I do.” There was a beat of silence. “I do say so, I mean. Yeah.”

She laughed at that. “Okay.”

“...Okay,” Adrien repeated, shifting his feet. “Can I take my shoes off now? I'm really sorry if I got mud on your carpet anywhere.”

That wasn't the end to Chloé being weird about him.

When Marinette questioned what Chloé thought she was doing when she dragged Adrien away, the answer she got was, “We have an understanding now. It's fine.”

“What does that even _mean_?” Marinette sighed in exasperation. “I don't understand at all.”

Chloé patted the top of her head condescendingly. “That's because you're dumb.”

“You're really helping me feel good about myself.” Marinette huffed, swatting her hand away. “I get it, you're not friends. You'll never be friends. Now, please stop making me want to die whenever you're near him.”

“Definitely asking for too much now,” Chloé remarked. “I feel I do... none of that.”

She frowned. “Why are we friends?”

“Because I gave you a nice haircut and you bought me cookies as a thank you,” Chloé cheerfully replied. “There's no getting rid of me now.”

She crossed her arms. “I regret even going into your salon.”

There was no sincerity in Chloé's voice as she said, “That's nice, dear.”

And even stranger, when Marinette mentioned that she was going over to Adrien's for dinner, Chloé had pulled her aside right as she was about to go out the front door.

“What?” she questioned, curious.

Chloé looked at her with a shrewd glance. “You're wearing that?”

“There's nothing wrong with me outfit,” Marinette replied, bewildered. It was ripped jeans, a t-shirt, and a jacket that she was bound to take off as soon as she got to his—it was comfortable, fit for how she was bound to be lounging across his sofa afterwards. “It's dinner and a film at his home, not somewhere fancy.”

Chloé made a disapproving noise with her tongue. “Yeah, but you want to bone him, don't you?”

“ _Pardon_?” she spluttered.

“Yes, exactly,” Chloé said, nodding her head as though she heard a completely different answer. “And if you turn up in that, that's never going to happen.”

She crossed her arms. “I'd like to think it would happen because of my charming personality.”

“It's sweet that you think that at all.”

“You're so fucking rude,” Marinette accused, wasting no time taking off her jacket and throwing it as her friend as she marched into her room. “What should I wear, then?”

Chloé snickered. “Oh, you're listening to me?”

“Shut the fuck up and pick so I can leave.”

Chloé positively gloated the entire time.

The outfit wasn't that different to what she'd bee wearing before. Chloé picked out a new shirt, stating the old one wasn't good enough, and threw some accessories for her to wear. It was a sudden change from Chloé not wanting her to see Adrien at all, but she wasn't going to question it, not when it was positive all of the sudden.

Adrien's smile when she arrived late was more than worth it.

“Hey,” she said, feeling a little breathless from how his smile reached his eyes.

“Hey, you,” he greeted, ushering her inside.

The warm feeling in her chest just about summed up the whole evening.

And as she expected, after they'd finished dinner—to which he still banished her out of the kitchen, but she was still able to talk to him clearly—they curled up on his sofa, the weather warranting him rummaging in his bedroom to return with a plush-looking blanket, draping it over the two of them.

It gave her an excuse to shift closer to him.

Adrien didn't flinch when she rested her head on his shoulder, tucking her legs underneath her, and she didn't jump when he loosely wrapped his arm around her waist, making it more comfortable for the two of them. More than anything, it was her heartbeat that changed with the shift of their positions, and she was very aware of the steady rise and fall of his chest.

She barely paid attention to the screen.

The usual commentary between them wasn't there; whether it was because of the position, or that neither of them had nothing to say about what they were watching, she wasn't sure.

But it didn't feel awkward, surprisingly.

She wasn't embarrassed about cosying on up to him; rather, she felt comfortable, not at all out of place. Adrien was the one she'd felt flustered about hugging without checking whether it was okay first only a few months ago, and yet, she was practically snuggled up to him on his sofa, very much aware of how she felt about him.

It was something that friends did, though. She'd done it with Chloé more times than she could count, the two of them beyond comfortable around each other, and for her to have reached that level with Adrien meant a lot.

She grinned into his shoulder.

Part way through, Adrien apologised before leaning forward to take off the long-sleeved shirt he'd had on as a jacket, folding it carefully before putting it down beside him. Then, he wasted no time in wrapping that same arm back around her, trying to return to their previous position.

She didn't protest to that at all.

Marinette curled into him, the lack of conversation still not awkward.

It was a while later that he winced, rotating the shoulder that she'd been leaning against.

“Sorry,” Marinette quickly said, sitting up. “Am I too heavy?”

“I—no,” Adrien replied hastily, shaking his head. “It's not that, really. I just... I don't know.”

It took him a little while to convince her that it was fine, that his arm had just been going numb, and she hesitantly leaned against him again. He didn't shift away in discomfort, thankfully.

One of the pluses of being right beside him meant that she could feel it when he laughed, and she was sure that he could feel her, too. The way he laughed softly at a ridiculous joke on the television was infectious, something she couldn't resist joining in, and it just made the two of them laugh even more when they realised what the other was doing.

It was a really nice evening.

But when he got up to get drinks for the two of them before they watched something else—even though it was late—she did notice him touching his arm once more, right where she'd had her head.

And as she'd gotten more comfortable, she'd gone a bit further down to where the sleeve of his t-shirt cut off, her cheek pressed against his skin.

There was a bright red mark there, visible even from a distance.

“Adrien?” she called out as he inspected it with his back to her.

The crack in his voice was very evident. “Y-yes?”

“...Is your arm okay?” Marinette asked, worried. “Did I do that?”

“This might—” Adrien started before cutting himself off, looking unsure. “This might be a weird question, but I really need to ask it.”

She blinked. “Okay.”

“Are you... are you wearing silver right now?”

“I—silver?” she repeated, bewildered. “I am, yeah. Is that—I mean, _why_?”

He grimaced. “I'm allergic to it.”

It didn't take long to connect the dots. She wasn't too experienced in knowing other people's allergies, and it definitely wasn't her place to judge whether it was normal or not, so all she could do was reach up and guiltily touch the earrings that she'd put on before coming to his.

The positioning was just right for where she'd been resting her head against him, absolutely.

“I am so sorry,” she squeaked out, not taking her eyes away from the red mark that was on his skin. “Is that—it's not too bad, is it?”

“Itchy,” he explained quietly. “It was just the contact, that was all. It would've been so much worse if I was actually wearing it.”

That was the first she heard about his allergies.

-x-

For Adrien's birthday, he asked her to spend the day with him.

There wasn't any reason to say no.

Chloé, however, was against it. After the fiasco of realising that Adrien was allergic to silver—which Marinette wallowed about when she got home, hating that she hurt him at all—it seemed the small flip of Chloé encouraging her to see him had reverted back to normal. Sure, Chloé didn't seek him out and pull him aside, but she wasn't subtle in her dislike.

Chloé purposely called him a different name to his face whenever they spoke.

Adrien always tensed up around her, not at all the charming person that she'd come to know, and she wondered whether that was how he appeared with her in the beginning—but it was hard to remember eight months ago, back when he'd first started coming into her store.

She only remembered that because of the holiday back then.

“Don't stay over,” Chloé demanded.

Marinette tutted. “You didn't even say please.”

“Mari—”

“No,” she interjected, frowning. “It's not like I'm sleeping on his sofa or anything! There's another bedroom, as I've told you _many_ times. And nothing's going to happen anyway, so I don't know why you're being so weird.”

Chloé made a noise of frustration. “Because I don't want you staying with him!”

“You don't get to decide that for me,” she pointed out calmly. “I've been alone with him so many times, so what makes this any different?”

The angle of her eyebrows gave away how irritated Chloé was. “You'll be sleeping.”

“Great answer,” she said sarcastically. “Yes, let's just not trust Adrien now. What the fuck's wrong with you?”

“I don't trust him!”

She angrily put her jacket on. “That's fucking low to think that of him, Chloé.”

“I'm trying to protect you—”

Her laugh wasn't sincere at all. “Protect me?” Marinette repeated, incredulous. “You're being so fucking difficult for no reason. If he was going to murder me—or do _anything_ bad—he would've done it already, so fuck off, will you?”

Marinette didn't give her a chance to respond, walking out and slamming the front door behind her.

She was still mad when she got to Adrien's.

And as he knew her well, he could tell that something was wrong when she slipped her shoes off, oddly quiet. But it—it wasn't that she was ignoring him, just that when she was mad, it was hard enough trying to not to burst out into tears, and she really didn't want to start sobbing just because she was irritated with her best friend.

Then, a soft touch came to her shoulder as Adrien asked, “Are you okay?”

Not bursting into tears lasted about two minutes in his presence.

He didn't hesitate to get out a box of tissues from his cupboard, seeming to be so well prepared that she couldn't help but laugh, her shoulders shaking as she grossly blew her nose.

He didn't say anything bad about Chloé the entire time she vented.

“She doesn't get to think that about you,” Marinette angrily vented, scrunching up the tissue into a tight ball. “You haven't done anything to deserve it. It's—it's so fucking unfair.”

All he had to say to that was, “You're swearing a lot.”

She sniffed pathetically. “I'm mad.”

“I can tell,” Adrien softly replied. “I appreciate you sticking up for me, but I... I don't want to come between you and your best friend, Marinette. I'm not worth it.”

That just made her eyes well up with tears again.

It was no secret that she was his only friend. And for him to openly put himself down, saying that her friendship with Chloé was more important than him—

It hurt to think about.

Marinette hugged him tightly in response to that. “Idiot,” she scolded him, fondness coming through into her voice. “You're more than worth it.”

He hesitantly returned the hug, not saying anything.

“I'm sorry,” she said, hiccuping. “I've ruined your birthday, haven't I?”

“Not at all,” he assured her, pulling back so he could look her in the eyes. “You being here is enough.”

And as flattering as that was to hear, it also made her feel sad.

There wasn't any more tears that evening. She retrieved his present and the cupcakes she'd bought—not made, not after the cake from her birthday—and it was worth it just to see how surprised he was when she handed them to him.

She took a picture of him in a ridiculous party hat on her phone, putting it as his photo in her contact list.

It fit in nicely with the other weird ones she had for people.

Then, as neither of them had any plans for the following day, they had enough alcohol to be giggly, not going overboard enough to warrant them feeling sick the next morning. With Adrien laughing loudly, pushing his hair back enough times for her to swat his hand away and put his fringe into an awkward ponytail that had them both laughing until they had tears in their eyes, it was one of their best evenings together.

And as she'd told Chloé, she slept in the other bedroom.

Adrien had panicked, apologising for any dust while saying he hadn't had anyone stay over for a while, and all she did was thank him for letting her stay at all.

The room didn't have anything personal in it; no framed photographs, no blankets or pieces of clothing (at least, not until she took off her clothing and put on the nightdress she'd brought along with her).

By the time she woke up to noise in the morning, Adrien was already making breakfast for the both of them.

“Want anything to drink?” he offered.

She knew from experience that he didn't have many options; she usually opted for a hot drink, since it was either water or juice she wasn't fond of in the fridge.

He gave her the same animal mug.

“I'm starting to think this is mine,” she mused, holding the mug with two hands as she inspected it.

He laughed. “It can be, if you like. I'm not sure why I bought it at all.”

“It's cute,” Marinette said, taking a tentative sip. “It's my favourite.”

“That's why it can be yours, then.”

She grinned. “Because I'm your favourite?”

“I'm not sure about that,” he replied, though he was smiling widely.

She spent most of the day with him. It was full of smiles, jokes, and she almost forgot that she was mad at Chloé during it, right until she looked at her phone to see the messages from Chloé that were roundabout way of apologising without actually saying it.

It wasn't good enough.

Chloé wasn't in the living room when she got back.

Marinette didn't seek her out, didn't answer any of the messages, and when it came time for dinner, she was cooking alone because Chloé was hidden in her bedroom for the majority of it.

And when she did appear, it was with a jacket on, a knitted hat on her head, and shoes in her hands, ready to be put on at the door. Chloé didn't spare her a glance as she marched through their apartment, leaving without saying a word.

Marinette's appetite went, but her friend wasn't in her usual attire for going out and getting drunk, thankfully.

When she went to bed, later that she should've due to working the next morning, Chloé still wasn't back.

She stubbornly didn't send a message.

It was ridiculous.

Chloé had been fine with him, if only for a little bit—she'd even tried to give Marinette fashion advice for when she was going over for the weekend, so she couldn't understand the sudden shift. Sure, the two of them would never be best friends, but she'd been hopeful that they'd—they'd _tolerate_ each other, at the very least.

But that wasn't happening at all.

What could Adrien have possibly done to deserve some distrust?

He and Chloé barely interacted, not outside of Marinette's presence. She knew that, she really did, and yet, it really didn't match up if that really was the case.

Maybe, just maybe, she'd missed the chance to try and see Chloé's side of the story before getting angry on Adrien's behalf. It wasn't fair for her to pick favourites, was it?

She hadn't even been aware there'd been an argument.

As Adrien hadn't mentioned anything to her, she didn't ask him first.

Chloé was notorious for not giving the full story most of the time, only saying what she deemed to be important (usually, she excluded the part where she was the antagonist).

As she finished work before Chloé the following day, she cooked dinner for the two of them, purposely setting the table first so it couldn't be missed when Chloé walked through.

It was a little awkward with Chloé being petty and not talking to her, but she did take off her shoes and sit down to eat.

Marinette decided to be blunt. “Did something happen between you and Adrien?”

Chloé almost choked on her food.

“Something must've happened,” she insisted, fiddling with her cutlery. “I was dumb and didn't think it through properly, but it's not like you were being mature about it.”

With a scowl, Chloé snapped back, “Why are you even asking?”

“Because you don't do something without a reason,” she admitted. “I wasn't taking his side, I swear. I just—I don't want you to think that I don't care.”

For a moment, there was silence. Then, Chloé finally said, “You're looking too far into this.”

She frowned.

“I—” Chloé started before cutting herself off with a frustrated noise. And as she ran a hand through her hair, pulling some strands out of her braids, she finally continued to say, “This isn't—I don't know how to explain this to you without it being... weird.”

It had to mean something for Chloé to look frazzled.

It made her feel even worse about not listening in the first place. The two of them had tempers when they wanted to, too caught up in their feelings to think about logic first, and with the two of them being hot-headed, it happened a lot more than she wanted it to.

“Adrien's...” Chloé trailed off again, looking lost for words. Then, she leaned forward, elbows on the table, as she confessed. “He's, like, my family.”

Marinette spluttered, “Pardon?”

Chloé didn't _have_ family—at least, not ones that she wanted to be involved with. From the vague mentions of them before, Marinette had assumed that their relationship hadn't been healthy, and it was why Chloé never wanted to bring them up in conversation, let alone talk to them at all.

Marinette hadn't even seen pictures of them.

“We're... related?” It came out sounding like a question, and from Chloé's expression, she was aware of that. “Cousins, yeah.”

All Marinette could say to that was, “I—what?”

Chloé shrugged. “I didn't realise for a while.”

“You didn't realise that... that Adrien's your _cousin_?” she questioned, so utterly confused. “As in, you actually know him, or you just found out and you're pissed that someone with any relation to you is near here at all?”

Rather than reply to any of that, Chloé pointed out, “That was a lot of questions.”

“I want you to answer them!” It came out louder than she wanted it to. “I just—I want to understand why you suddenly dislike him. I... I know you don't get on with your family, but does he really—does he really deserve this from you?”

Chloé stubbornly raised her chin. “Yes.”

“But yes to what?” Marinette questioned, running a hand through her hair.

“We're very aware of our relation,” was the response to that, no emotion in Chloé's voice whatsoever. “I talked to him about it last night—we're seeing eye-to-eye on this.”

That was news to her. “I'm sorry, what?”

“We're related,” Chloé said, holding up one finger. Then, she held up another and added on, “We mutually dislike each other because of it. It's very much deserved.”

She looked at her dubiously. “I'm sure.”

“I'm being honest.”

“I never said you weren't,” she countered.

Chloé sniffed. “Your expression says otherwise.”

“So... this epiphany for you two warrants you not wanting me to sleep over at his?” Marinette questioned, furrowing her brow. “And, by the way, I had a great time, thank you for asking. I didn't share a bed with him, sleep on the sofa, or feel uncomfortable at all. So, fuck you for that.”

Chloé's expression became tight. “I don't like you spending time with him.”

“That's nice,” she replied, sarcastic. “You really don't get a say in what I do, remember? Unless you're going to tell me he's a sex offender—or _something—_ I'm not going to stop being his friend.”

There was a beat of silence.

“...Please, tell me he's not a sex offender,” Marinette blurted.

“He's not,” Chloé said, sulking. “I just don't like my family.”

Marinette couldn't resist prying further. “Did you grow up with him?”

“Who knows?” Chloé choked out a laugh. “It's hard to tell with my family.”

That response didn't make any sense at all. It was frustrating that she hadn't exactly gotten a straight answer, and that was the reason that she asked, “Did he do something to you?”

“He—”

“Personally,” Marinette clarified, crossing her arms, their food long forgotten. “Existing doesn't count as a good answer.”

Chloé inspected her nails on one hand. “I think it's a perfectly good one.”

“ _No_.”

“Fine.” Chloé sat up straighter, looking her in the eyes. “I don't trust my family with you, okay?”

It was Chloé caring in her own way, wasn't it? In a way that was too blunt, managed to hurt people instead, and rarely was it thought through well. And it was the thought of that that had Marinette's expression softening as she started to understand her friend's point of view.

It still didn't change that she'd been a dick, though.

Her voice was quiet as she said, “I trust him.”

“Yeah, and I hate that,” Chloé admitted. “But I can't stop you, can I?”

She nodded. “No, you can't.”

Chloé let out a loud sigh, resting her chin on her palm. “Fine, but don't expect me to be his best friend.”

She snorted. “I've literally never asked that of you.”

“Good.”

-x-

After their fight—if it could really be classed as that—Chloé didn't voice any protests again. She did pull a few displeased faces whenever Marinette spoke about Adrien, but the main factor there was that Chloé _asked_ about him.

“I like seeing you happy, not him,” was her explanation for that.

It was sweet of her.

The pining was still the same.

Adrien continued to be one of her best friends, wanting to spend all the time that they could together, and Marinette hovered at his table at work for longer than necessary whenever it wasn't busy. It was a highlight of her day when he walked inside, his wide smile greeting her when she looked up from the till to see him.

It didn't help that she wasn't being very subtle with her feelings, apparently.

“Your pining is giving me a headache,” Juleka quietly said, patting her shoulder it what was supposed to look like sympathy. “Just go talk to him or something.”

“I'm _working_.”

Juleka snorted. “On confessing to him?”

She wasn't even friends with Chloé.

“I don't have to stand here to listen to your rudeness.” Marinette sniffed. Then, as she took a step away from the counter, she proclaimed, “I'm going over there to get away from you, not because of your suggestion. I want you to know that.”

She ignored Juleka's laughter when Adrien lifted his head up to look at her.

She would've been lying if she said it didn't make her face feel warm.

The longest she didn't see Adrien in person was over the winter holidays. She took a bit of time off work to be able to stay with her family for a while, dragging Chloé along with her, and the entire time that she was away Adrien made sure to message her daily.

It wasn't a change from the usual, though. They still frequently texted, sent pictures of them pulling stupid faces with equally dumb captions, and sometimes she caught herself wondering whether she should be embarrassed about being so open with him.

It was nice that she didn't feel terribly self-conscious with him.

And from the pictures and topics they talked about, it was clear that he was very much the same.

The day that she got back to her apartment with Chloé, she wasted no time in changing her clothes and meeting Adrien from where he'd parked outside to pick her up. There hadn't been any muttered comments on her way past, thankfully, and she doubted that she would've remembered them by the time she was buckling her seatbelt.

“I missed you,” he blurted.

The way his ears reddened when he felt shy hadn't changed.

She grinned. “Same.”

“Same?” he questioned. “All I get is a lame same?”

“Don't rhyme at me!”

“Oh, I didn't even mean to,” Adrien remarked. “But this isn't getting you out of being so insincere. I'm really hurt, Mari.”

She snickered. “If you weren't driving, I'd hit you.”

“And now this is turning into abuse.” He sniffed. “I should just kick you out right now.”

“Onto the cold street?” she questioned. “There's snow outside. Would you really do that to me?”

He turned to look at her and winked. “Without a second thought.”

“I really feel appreciated right now,” she announced.

“Yeah, and now you know how I feel,” he said with a laugh.

It was refreshing to see him again, to actually see the way his eyes crinkled in the corners when he laughed, how his voice turned higher-pitched at times, or how he'd clear his throat and pause when he wasn't sure on what he wanted to say—but most of all, it was just nice to be beside him again.

Even if he was Chloé's hated cousin.

Adrien's voice had cracked when she brought that up later in the evening. “Cousin?”

It wasn't something they brought up often; well, Adrien never intentionally did, and it was the first time that Marinette had mentioned the connection between them ever since she'd first explained what had happened with Chloé.

“I—cousin, yes,” he stuttered, not looking her in the eye. “It's... it's just weird to think about her like that.”

That was confirmation that he and Chloé hadn't met before Marinette was the catalyst for them.

Adrien never mentioned his family either, but it wasn't healthy for her to make assumptions that they were pushed away by him, just like Chloé had done.

“I... I don't really have anyone,” Adrien continued on, shocking her as he looked down at his lap, fiddling with his hands. “Not any more.”

And what was she supposed to say to that?

Instead of pressing him for more, or even reaching out and touching him, as his slumped shoulders and avoidance of eye contact clearly meant that he didn't want her to comfort him at that moment, she just sat in silence beside him.

“My family died... years ago,” he quietly confessed. “I barely remember them, honestly.”

She still didn't say anything. Saying that she was sorry seemed counterproductive.

He ran a hand through his hair roughly. “Chloé—I don't blame her for not wanting to know me. It just—it makes a lot more sense about her being so rude now.”

Marinette couldn't help but butt in to exclaim, “Don't excuse her poor attitude. You don't deserve that from her, Adrien.”

His smile didn't reach his eyes as he looked up to meet her gaze. “There's a lot you don't know.”

“Yeah,” she admitted. “But I know you, isn't that enough?”

His gaze dropped down to the floor. “I hope so.”

It made her throat feel tight.

There wasn't much she could do to comfort him when she didn't understand the context. As much as she disliked Chloé's decision, she knew there was more to it than just disliking Adrien because he was close to her any more, and she wasn't about to badmouth Chloé to him in an attempt to make him feel better.

“I think you're great,” she blurted out, face feeling warm when she realised what she'd said. “Really, I do.”

The short laugh that escaped him was half-hearted. “You're biased.”

“Yeah, because I like you,” she confirmed without hesitation. “I have every right to think you're a great person when you're one of my best friends.”

His voice was quiet as he asked, “I thought Chloé was your best friend?”

She gently put her hand on his arm. “It's possible to have more than one best friend, you know.”

“I—yeah,” he stuttered. “I... I wasn't sure you saw me that way, that's all.”

Her brow furrowed. “How would I see you, then?”

And as he wouldn't look her in the eye, opening his mouth for a moment before closing it, clearly trying to think about his answer, she had to wonder what was on his mind. From the amount of time they spent together, she thought it was obvious that they were best friends—she constantly texted him, too, which she barely did with anyone else.

And he knew that.

It was barely audible as he said, “It's not important.”

“I think it is,” Marinette rebutted. “You're important to me, so I want to hear what you have to say about us not being best friends. Are you literally friend-zoning me?”

He cracked a lopsided smile at that. “That's not what that means.”

“It is now.” She sniffed. “Tell me.”

“You're being really demanding.”

She leaned over, resting her head on his shoulder. “Yeah, but you already knew that about me. I like getting what I want.”

“Don't we all?” he countered.

Wrapping one of her arm around his, she got more comfortable in their new position. “Stop dodging the question.”

“Are you—are you really going to make me say it?” he questioned, voice a bit exasperated. “It should be obvious enough by now.”

She grinned. “More obvious than your staring?”

“Stop teasing me,” Adrien grumbled. “But yes.”

But it wasn't to her at all—at least, not a logical one, rather than one she wished to happen. She didn't want her feelings to be pushed upon him.

“I don't have a clue what you're trying to avoid saying,” Marinette admitted. “Unless you're going to proclaim that you had a best friendship pact with someone when you were younger, now you'll never be able to accept me since I'm second best forever. That's not it, is it?”

She could feel it as he laughed. “Why would that ever be it?”

“I don't know, I have to go to weird scenarios when you don't answer me,” she retorted. “What is it, you secretive prick?”

He shot her a frown, but it was ruined by him trying not to smile. “I'm not going to answer you because you insulted me.”

“I've called you worse!”

“Yeah, but not in a heartfelt moment,” he answered.

She sat up straighter, no longer resting her head against his shoulder, but her arms were still wrapped around his. “Heartfelt?” she questioned, voice a bit higher-pitched than usual. “You—what's heartfelt about you rejecting my friendship, you fiend?”

Adrien started to say, “That's not—”

She looked at him pointedly. “Unless you're about to confess your undying love, I don't want to hear it.”

And to her surprise, he didn't say anything to that immediately. Instead, Adrien shifted on the spot, looking at her for a moment before his gaze darted away, only to come right back at stare at her for the shortest time before he repeated it once more.

It had been a joke, that was all.

And yet, he was staying silent.

Then, he cleared his throat. “Well...”

“Well?” she repeated, shrill.

“I wouldn't say it's undying.”

Marinette's laughter was awkward, and she was sure it sounded as forced as it felt. “Sure, jerk,” she said, untangling her arms from him to gently punch him where she'd been holding. “You had me going there.”

“ _Had_?” he questioned, sounding utterly bewildered. “I—that was serious.”

“Serious?” she echoed, just as surprised. “You... what?”

There was no mistaking the redness on his cheeks. “I'm trying to confess awkwardly to you here.”

Of all the things she could've done, all that she could've said, what came out was, “Oh.”

But it wasn't a bad one—it was shocked, stumped from where she'd missed that development somewhere along the way. She'd been so adamant that Adrien needed a friend, that she couldn't possibly be anything else when he didn't have _anyone_ , that she hadn't realised any sort of change in them.

And she still couldn't, not in that short moment of clarity. All she knew of him was her best friend, the one that would happily call her in the middle of the night to tell her about some random thought, just for her to snap and tell him that she wanted to _sleep_ , not laugh at some absurd rant—

His shoulders slumped. “Yeah.”

It took a short while to occur to her that her answer could've been perceived as something else entirely.

“I didn't mean it like that!” she blurted, wildly using her hands to emphasise her words, but it could've been seen as her awkwardly swatting them in the air for no reason. “I—it's a surprise, okay? It was a good one, I swear.”

His eyes were wide as he questioned, “Good?”

“...Yeah?” Her voice came out a bit strangled. “If you're still serious, that is. Otherwise, I'm going to go drown myself in your bathtub.”

“I'm serious?” But it came out sounding like a question. Adrien cleared his throat before repeating it again.

“Oh,” was out of her mouth before she could stop herself. “I—me, too.”

He looked at her dubiously. “You're serious?”

It was unmistakably the awkwardest conversation about liking someone that she'd ever had. “Yeah.”

“...Thanks for being serious?” he replied, confused.

Her laughter came out a bit strangled. “I—no. I meant... I like you.”

The sudden change in his expression was almost comical. “You—”

“As more than friends,” she clarified, reaching up and tucking some stray hairs behind her ear. “I just—I wasn't going to say anything.”

“Why not?” Adrien questioned, talking fast. “I thought you—I thought you knew how I felt and just weren't saying anything.”

She squinted. “Why?”

“I don't know!” He threw his hands up in exasperation. “You liking me back seemed impossible when your best friend hates me!”

She crossed her arms. “You're _also_ my best friend.”

“That's not the point right now!” Adrien exclaimed. “Why do you—why would you even _like_ me?”

Rather than reply to that normally, she instead countered, “Well, why would you like me?”

“That's not the same thing,” he grumbled, settling down and turning his body to face her more, his back pressed against the arm of the sofa. “You liking me is completely different.”

“Yeah, I'm going to say no to that, buddy,” she retorted. “It's the same thing. We like each other, let's be happy.”

He looked frazzled. “But you—”

“Have mutual feelings for you? Yes.”

“Marinette—”

She interjected, “If you're just going to put yourself down, I don't want to hear it.”

“You don't even know what I'm going to say,” Adrien pointed out, almost as if he was sulking.

“I'll correct myself,” she said. “Unless it's you asking me out on a date, I don't want to hear it.”

He visibly faltered for words.

With her eyebrows raised, Marinette raised a hand and cupped it around her ear, as though it would help her hear better. “Clock's ticking.”

“I'm feeling very peer pressured,” he muttered, but he didn't sound bitter. “Does it really count when you're telling me to do it?”

“Oh, you want to go out next week?” she replied, ignoring his response. “I think I can manage that, yes.”

And as he laughed, he proclaimed, “You're insufferable.”

“Yeah, but for some reason, you're kind of into that.”

He questioned, “Kind of?”

“It's not undyingly, is it?”

-x-

Chloé wasn't completely against the development.

“I read that happiness is important online.”

“...Thanks?” Marinette replied, bewildered.

“Also, many ways to kill someone without getting caught,” Chloé added on in the same uninterested tone. “And how to hide the body. There's a lot of great stuff online.”

She reached up to pat Chloé's shoulder in sympathy. “I think you reading them at all has probably alerted the police.”

That caused Chloé to laugh. “I'm sure that's what'll get me caught.”

“I worry about you,” Marinette replied. “You're too good with scissors for me not to take you seriously.”

Chloé scoffed. “You think I need a weapon to kill someone?”

“What else are you doing to do?” she questioned, amused. “Throw a punch and hurt your hand? You'd never do something that would tarnish your appearance.”

Chloé shot her a dirty look. “I'm untarnishable.”

“I've seen you look close to crying about grass stains,” Marinette pointed out. “I imagine it would be ten times worse with blood, you know? You'd be the worst serial killer.”

“Who said it would be serial?” Chloé retorted. “Maybe I'll just be a one-time hit.”

“...That's not what that phrase means.”

Chloé looked gleeful. “If the shoe fits, Mari.”

“I don't like you,” she muttered, bitter. “You're the worst.”

“I'm the only person worth knowing,” Chloé corrected, picking up Marinette's keys from the counter and throwing them at her. “Let's go celebrate that your celibacy is ending.”

Marinette scrambled to try and catch them, but they fell on the floor. “We're not even dating—”

“You're going on a date,” Chloé replied. “With the amount of time you spend together, what's the chance he'll decide he doesn't like you during that? Don't be fucking stupid.”

She frowned. “I have work tomorrow—”

“Do I ever care about that?” Chloé put a hand on her hip. “No.”

She sighed. “You're the worst influence.”

“In that case, let's go get our nipples pierced,” Chloé announced, slipping her shoes on as she moved closer to the front door. “That's a thing people do to celebrate, right?”

“What? _No_.”

Chloé laughed. “You say that now, but just you wait.”

“I'm not getting my nipples pierced!” Marinette exclaimed.

“There's more daring places, but you're a bit too much of a coward for that—”

Marinette threw a pillow at her.

The turn in her life was positive. Chloé wasn't sulking any more, wasn't pulling as many faces when Adrien's name was brought up, and Marinette wasn't getting angry at her friend for not sharing her feelings any more.

Adrien was acting the same as before they'd confessed. That was expected, of course—they'd already been close, so for him to fully change would've been confusing. Marinette wondered whether there was any more that she could've been doing, but they hadn't even been on their date yet, and it seemed awkward to bring up their feelings before that—

She felt like a hopeless teenager at times.

Their first date—if it could even be classed as that—was something they'd done many times before. Adrien picked her up to go to their preferred cinema, the two of them dressed the same as ever, and it was almost strange how normal it felt.

Her heart wasn't fluttering nervously, she wasn't thinking about all the things that could go wrong, and for a while, she forgot that it was supposed to be a date at all.

Adrien shared that thought.

“It's not very different,” she mused, juggling the food in her hands while Adrien had their drinks and tickets. “Maybe we should've gone for a film we'd both hate.”

“Sure, because _that's_ what needs to change,” he sarcastically responded.

She grinned.

It was when they were sat down in their seats that he asked, “Can I hold your hand?”

Her gaze darted between her hand that was closest to him—that she was using to eat—and his face, trying to see whether he was being serious.

“But I'm hungry,” she said, frowning.

“I—”

“Don't you dare offer to feed me,” Marinette interrupted. “That's just—weird.”

He actually looked a little offended at that. “I wasn't going to!”

Humming, she slowly lifted some food to her mouth, then chewed thoughtfully as she looked at him. “I'm sure.”

“I'm trying to be _romantic_.”

“Starving me is romantic?” she queried, picking up another piece. “I'm starting to rethink this date idea.”

He sniffed. “Well, we've never held hands before, have we?”

“Maybe—”

“Not here,” he pointed out. “So, that'll make it different, right?”

“There's a lot of things we haven't done here,” Marinette mused. “What if I took my shoes off?”

He snorted. “What if I ignored you for the whole film?”

“Freedom.”

“I'm regretting this more with every second,” he announced.

She wiggled her fingers at him.

Adrien turned his nose up at that. “I'm not touching your sticky fingers.”

“What if they were sticky for a different reason?” she questioned innocently. “That's something we've never done here. Romantic, eh?”

He tried hard not to laugh. “I'm going to pretend you didn't even say that.”

“I'll make you a compromise,” Marinette proposed.

“I'm listening.”

She grinned. “Let me have a sip of your drink and I'll eat with my other hand.”

As he picked up his drink and passed it to her, he asked, “What's the catch?”

“You think my love has catches?” Marinette gasped. “That's so _rude_.”

“You're the _worst—_ ”

They stopped talking after the trailers finished.

He held her hand for half the film until Marinette shifted in her seat and rested her head on his shoulder, taking up a lot of his personal space.

Adrien didn't complain at all.

It didn't need to feel too different to normal, did it? They were comfortable enough to lounge all over the other, not too shy to even hug when they were meeting up any more, and Marinette wasn't embarrassed when she dropped some food onto her lap, only frowning at the loss of it.

And throughout the time where he was holding her hand, Adrien's thumb rubbed gentle patterns into her skin, a sensation that was there through a lot of her, or he adjusted his fingers that were linked together, trying to make it more comfortable for the both of them.

It was the little touches that she'd never had before that she noticed the most.

As they'd gone out in the afternoon, they went back to his. Marinette had said that Chloé was out with her friends, but Adrien didn't want to deal with that (at least, not until they'd been on a few dates, according to him).

They were too full to eat right at that moment, but Adrien did make them both hot drinks.

She cradled the mug—that was definitely hers at that point—against her chest.

Adrien was the one to blurt out, “I don't know when to kiss you.”

She choked on her drink.

And after she'd finished coughing, face feeling so hot while her throat hurt, Adrien was patting her back with a guilty frown on his lips. He'd taken the mug from her hands immediately when she choked, messily putting it onto the coffee table.

“I'm sorry?” It came out like a question.

She laughed, the sound throaty. “It's not your fault.”

“I should've... phrased that better,” he muttered, the red on his ears noticeable when he pushed his hair away from his forehead. “And not tried to kill you because of it. I'd miss you if you died, you know.”

She punched his arm lightly. “I should hope so, you twat.”

“You're getting abusive again,” he said, pretending to wince as he touched the part of his arm that she'd hit. “I'm really regretting this date now.”

Marinette just raised her chin. “You've said that so many times.”

“And yet, you followed me to my home—”

“You drove me here!” Marinette exclaimed, throwing her hands up in the air in outrage. “If our date was really that bad, you would've awkwardly dropped me back home.”

He jutted his lower lip out. “How dare you call me awkward.”

“It suits you nicely.” She patted the top of his head, messing up his hair in the process. “And I find it a bit endearing.”

His smile was lopsided. “Only a bit?”

She pointed out, “We've only just started dating, you can't have me head over heels yet.”

“Oh, is that so?”

“Definitely.” She nodded. “We have to take it nice and slow.”

He bumped his shoulder against hers gently. “Slow enough for you to be at mine right now.”

“Not for any nefarious reasons,” she replies, using her index finger to point at him. “If you think I'm taking off more than my shoes, you're very wrong.”

“Marinette,” Adrien said slowly. “You took your jacket off.”

She blinked.

That was true.

“Well,” she started, putting the back of her hand against her forehead and making it so she was leaning against the sofa cushions. “Consider me swooned, Mister... Adrien.”

His laughter was wonderful. “Mister Adrien?”

“I don't know your surname,” she admitted with a laugh. “It never even—I never thought to _ask_.”

“Agreste.” His smile showed his dimples. “My name's Adrien Agreste.”

It was a lot better than imagining him with Chloé's surname.

“Nice to meet you, Mister Agreste,” Marinette said, sitting up and thrusting her hand out for him to shake. Then, as he gently took her hand into his, she asked, “Can we finally start kissing now? I know who you are.”

There was a lot of laughter that evening.

-x-

Valentine's came.

Marinette slapped his hand away when he tried to hand her money over the counter.

Then, when she brought his outrageous drink over to him—complete with copious amounts of syrup on top of it—she announced, “This is for our anniversary.”

Adrien looked between the drink and her, bewildered. “We've haven't even been dating a month.”

“Yes,” she confirmed, putting one hand on her hip while the other pushed her hair off of her face. “But this is around the time you started coming in here. Therefore, anniversary of knowing you.”

The fondness in his voice showed in his expression as he smiled softly. “That's not a thing.”

“I'm making it a thing,” she replied. “And I paid for that because I _did_ make you some chocolates, but Chloé ate them.”

There was no annoyance in his face as he laughed. “Did she?”

“Yes,” Marinette grumbled. “I don't even know if it was intentional or not, so that's even worse.”

“I wasn't sure whether to buy you something,” he admitted.

“Seeing you here is enough of a gift,” she teased. “But I really do have to get back to work before Juleka glares at another customer.”

It was all so easy-going. There wasn't much stress to her life; the apartment she shared with Chloé wasn't a problem, not when they split the chores and had a good relationship, and Adrien was as easy to please as she was. They didn't argue, mostly just bickered about ridiculous topics that they probably never should've been so worked up about, and she never regretted spending time with him.

The biggest thing that happened was that Adrien told her what happened to his friends.

It was for a stupid reason that it came up at all. The horror film they'd picked to watch with each other involved a plane crash, and when she'd felt him tense against her, she looked at his questionably.

At first, he brushed it off, saying it was nothing.

Then, after it had finished and they'd changed the screen to have something on quietly in the background, he quietly said, “My best friends died like that.”

That had been hours ago, and because of that, it took a few seconds her to grasp at the meaning at all. “Like—like in the film?”

“Not that dramatically, of course.” His smile didn't reach his eyes. “Or, well, maybe it was? I wasn't there to know.”

It wasn't a situation where she knew exactly what to say. She awkwardly grasped for words, coming out with, “They... died?”

“Yeah,” Adrien confirmed with a sigh, leaning back against the sofa, bringing up on foot to rest on the cushion so he could put his arm on his elbow, looking far more comfortable than he sounded. “Years ago now, but I... I miss them, still.”

She swallowed. “The ones from your picture?”

His laugh was half-hearted. “Yeah. I'm not very good at making friends, but they were the best.”

She didn't know what to say to that.

“I didn't really...” Adrien trailed off, tilting his head back and staring up at the ceiling. “I didn't have anyone else, not after they—they died. I think you're my first real friend since.”

And as she wasn't the best at comforting, she went for humour instead. “You think?”

“Okay, you are,” he amended, not sounding choked up with emotion at all. But the way he was avoiding eye contact, not even looking in her direct, said a lot about the situation. “Thanks for putting up with me for so long.”

She gently took his free hand with her own, linking their fingers together. “You're not much of a burden.”

“Only a little, then,” he joked, but it fell flat.

There was a beat of silence, with her simply holding his hand as he stared up at the ceiling. His breathing was loud, audible above the quiet sound coming from the television, and instead of staring at his face, she gazed down at their intertwined hands, noting the small difference in the colour of their skin.

“I was supposed to be on it.”

She blinked.

“On the plane,” Adrien clarified, hoarse. “But I—I was sick the night before, so I didn't go with them.”

She squeezed his hand.

His voice was quiet. “I really miss them.”

When they hugged, he was the one to initiate it.

“Did you know them for long?” Marinette asked quietly, her head tucked into his chest, her cheek against his shirt. It wasn't the most comfortable position, but he was holding onto her tightly, clearly wanting the contact that moment.

His voice was but a whisper. “Since—since I was young.”

“I'm sorry you lost them,” she murmured, closing her eyes. “I'm sorry you've been alone.”

He didn't tense against her, but she could hear the change in his breathing and how he'd started to sniff, as though trying not to cry.

“It's okay,” he murmured thickly, more to himself than anything. “It's okay.”

Marinette gently said, “If you... if you ever want to talk about them, I'd love to hear.”

He cleared his throat. “Maybe.”

Maybe meant that it came in snippets. Marinette learned their names first; Alya and Nino, then that the two of them had started dating when they were teenagers, but they always went out of their way to make it so Adrien didn't feel left out. He told Marinette about a few of the dates he got dragged along to, even with the two of them insisting they weren't _dates_ , and he sounded so-very-happy recalling those memories until he got to the end and sobered up.

They sounded like they were really, really nice.

Adrien was really open with her after that; after all, his friends and family had been topics that they avoided, but since she'd found out what had happened to them, there weren't many secrets left. It wasn't as though she'd pressured him to tell her—he was entitled to keeping any information he wanted to himself, but him trusting her enough to tell her meant a lot.

She didn't really have anything on that level to tell him back.

Marinette was quite an open person once she knew someone. Juleka had heard her complain and rant about all sorts of topics, Chloé had almost heard it all, and there wasn't much left that Adrien didn't know.

There wasn't some deep dark secret for her.

And if she did have one, she doubted that she'd be able to keep it to herself for long.

As the weather started to warm up, it meant that they were starting to go outside more. Adrien sneezed when they went outside sometimes, usually asking to duck into a café or another store to browse for a while, and she never had any complaints about it.

They went into an ice cream store.

She offered him a spoonful of hers without hesitation.

“I don't think you'll like mine,” he said, looking down at his pot with a frown.

Marinette swapped their pots before he could protest. Then, when she did put a spoonful into her mouth, her facial features scrunched up in displeasure.

It was as sweet as her ice cream, but there was a not-so-subtle flavour that was only made worse by the syrup that he'd chosen to have on top of it. And even though she'd avoided getting any of that onto the spoon, it was still _bad_.

“Gross,” she announced, dramatically putting the pot back in her hands. “I'm never trusting your choice again.”

He defended his poor taste with, “I didn't know you were going to have some.”

“My trust is already ruined, Adrien,” she retorted. “You can't get it back.”

He snorted. “I bet Chloé would like this.”

“Your one thing in common does that mean you can bring her up to try and make me the person that's wrong here,” she replied, pointing her little spoon at him. “I'm convinced you two just have weird tastebuds or something.”

That made him laugh. “I'm sure that's it.”

“It tastes awful, Adrien,” she insisted.

He grinned, purposely lifting up a large spoonful. “It tastes sweet.”

“I'm not going to kiss you.”

“Yeah, we'll see how long that lasts,” he said before putting the spoonful into his mouth.

She grimaced, the taste stuck in hers still.

There wasn't much to give a second thought; having a different taste in food was normal, something everything had, so it wasn't anything for her to think hard about.

The sugar at his had run out.

The two of them were playing a game together in the living room, and Marinette had volunteered to make drinks for the two of them. She could hear the controller clicking as he continued to play while she was in the kitchen.

She'd been there enough times to know where almost everything was.

There wasn't another bag of sugar, so she opted to use one of his sweeteners. He had a pot filled with them, the little packets always littering the countertops before he remembered to put them in the bin, and she knew that he wouldn't mind her using them. He always told her to help herself to what she wanted.

When she took a sip of her drink, she pulled a disgusted face.

“What's up?” Adrien questioned, noticing her expression.

“This—this tastes terrible,” she announced, hastily putting the mug down as she swallowed, trying to get rid of the taste. “What kind of sweetener is _that_?”

His brow furrowed. “Eh?”

“Your sweetener?” she said, gesturing towards his own drink. “You put it in, like, every hot drink you have.”

“...It's not a sweetener.”

“Well, it definitely doesn't taste sugary.” She wrinkled her nose. “What is it, then?”

Adrien cupped his mug with both of his hands. “I—I guess it's like vitamins, I guess?”

“You put _vitamins_ in your drinks?” she asked, incredulous. “Who does that?”

“Me, apparently,” he said. “I like being healthy.”

She frowned. “It tastes like ass.”

“Ass is healthy,” he proclaimed.

If he wasn't holding his mug, she would've hit him for that. “As much as I like you, I'm never buying some and keeping it at my place. I don't like you _that_ much.”

“That makes me feel really good about myself,” Adrien replied, a smile on his lips. “Sorry, I should've warned you that it tastes bad.”

“I've seen you having it for a year without looking disgusted, so I feel really lied to.”

He exclaimed, “I never said it was nice!”

“Just being healthy is nicer?” she asked with a laugh.

“Yes, exactly,” he said, nodding along. “There's also a syrup version, but it's so fucking sugary. It doesn't really drown out the taste, so it's like the other kind of bad.”

She grimaced. “Not your type of thing?”

“I'm too weak, unlike Chloé,” was his response.

Marinette blinked. “Chloé?”

“Yes?” It came out sounding like a question. “I've seen you make it for her at work, and you even have a bottle in your kitchen? You have to know what I'm talking about.”

“ _Oh_ ,” she said, drawing out the sound. “Yeah, definitely. I didn't realise they're the same thing? I didn't see the name of it.”

He only shrugged at that.

“Saying you and Chloé are two different versions of bad is pretty fitting,” she teased. “I like that.”

And when he rolled his eyes, she laughed.

It was a few days later that she recalled the conversation. Marinette was in her kitchen, making breakfast on her day off when she caught sight of the few bottles of syrups they kept on their countertops. She reached out and took Chloé's most-used one—the only one to have a pump in it permanently—and and turned it around to the back, reaching the ingredients.

The familiar theme for all of them was the name of the flavour—vital—while none of them were the same brand. Chloé had bought drinks in that flavour, sauces, and even toppings for ice cream through the time they'd known each other, and she'd never really figured out what the flavour was.

Looking online never gave a straight answer about what it was, nor the labels.

Wasn't that a little weird?

Adrien said it was supposed to be filled with vitamins, but she'd never seen any of them in a health-related section. They were usually scattered throughout the different food and drink aisles, a flavour that was widely available for a lot of different products.

“How come you never just have sachets without all the sugar?” Marinette questioned later that evening.

Chloé stopped stirring her drink. “Excuse me?”

“You know,” Marinette started, gesturing towards her mug. “The ones that Adrien has? You always complain that you have sugar on your teeth afterwards.”

Chloé snorted. “Because I'd rather suffer with some sweetness than not at all.”

“ _Suffer_?” she exclaimed. “You never said you don't like it!”

“Sacrifices have to be made sometimes.”

“That literally makes no sense,” Marinette retorted. “I don't get you two at all. Why even have it if you don't like the taste?”

Haughtily, Chloé raised her chin. “You don't get to lump me in with your boyfriend.”

Chloé had a bruise near her neck, only just peeking out from her shirt. It definitely wasn't one from intimate activities, though.

“Why not?” she shot back. “I just found out you're both as idiotic as each other. I think it fits quite nicely for you both—you're terrible.”

“It doesn't taste _that_ bad,” Chloé said. “It's just a little... tangy. But it beats the alternative, so I'm going to stick to this, thank you.”

Marinette just stared at her. They'd been friends for close to three years at that point—having moved in together for Marinette's last year of university, and stuck to it after she'd graduated—but that didn't mean that it was astounding for Chloé to admit that she didn't _like_ it. No matter how many times Marinette had complained about it when she'd accidentally ate some in the past, Chloé had only made fun of her, or said that their tastes were different.

She frowned. “Why are you only telling me now?”

“I'm slowly letting you in on my secrets,” Chloé said, adding in an exaggerated wink. “You have to wait a while for the next unlock, I'm afraid.”

“I don't understand how I even got this one.”

Chloé sighed, going back to stirring her drink. “Your choice in boyfriend, sadly.”

“Your hatred's causing you to spill out your secrets?” she questioned with a grin. “That sounds a bit weird.”

The flirty response she got to that was, “Rile me up some more and I'll tell you everything.”

Marinette clicked her fingers and pointed at her friend. “No, thanks.”

“Ungrateful brat.”

-x-

There was something on the floor.

At first, Marinette didn't pay it any attention, instead changing into more comfortable clothing after work, but it caught her eye when she padded back into the living room. It stood out against their wooden flooring, the dark-coloured splotch on the floor, and when she crossed the room to see what it was, she was absolutely horrified.

She cleared up the animal droppings immediately.

Then, when Chloé got home, she immediately blurted out, “I think we have rats.”

Chloé looked at her in confusion. “You... found a rat?”

“No,” she denied. “But I'm pretty sure the shit I found belongs to one? Like, I'm not going to look online and compare different types, but it's the only logical thing, right?”

Slowly, Chloé dropped her bag onto the sofa—despite Marinette always telling her _not_ to do that—and turned to look at her. “You—what?”

“I found shit,” she stated. “I don't mean, like, nothing. I found fucking _shit_ on our floor, Chloé.”

There was a beat of silence.

Chloé sounded strangled as she asked, “Where?”

Marinette didn't think anything of it. It was only natural to be displeased that their apartment had unwanted visitors, something that they hadn't had before. “Over here,” she said, gesturing towards the wall. “It was there when I got home.”

“Today.” It wasn't a question. “You found it today.”

“Yeah,” Marinette confirmed, ushering her friend to follow her to that side of the room. “I had a little look, but I can't find anywhere for rats to be? But it's not like I know rats. I don't know how the fuck they'd get in here. Should I ask the neighbours if they've got any or something?”

Instead of replying, Chloé was just staring down at the floor.

“Chloé?” Marinette called, gently elbowing her friend's arm. “You're not deathly afraid of them or anything, are you? I know I handle spiders sometimes, but I think it might be a two-man job if we've got rats—or more, if we actually have to call someone in to deal with it. I'm so fucking clueless.”

Chloé loudly let out a breath. “You—you don't have to call anyone.”

“...But we have _rats_.”

“We don't have rats,” Chloé countered. “I swear, we don't.”

“Oh, did I imagine it all, then?” she asked, sarcastic. “It wasn't _you_ that had to pick it up, you know. If you really don't believe me, it's buried in the bin—”

“Marinette,” Chloé interrupted her, turning to face her. “It's fine.”

She blinked. “We're... fine with rats?”

“Rats are cute.”

Squinting, she pointed out, “But you just said we don't have rats.”

“We don't, but we could adopt some, if you want,” Chloé replied, crossing her arms. “This place allows pets, right?”

“I think we're avoiding the actual problem right now,” Marinette started, frantically gesturing to the spot on the floor that she'd cleared up. “We have an unwelcome guest—or maybe more. I don't know.”

Pressing her lips together, Chloé didn't answer her verbally.

It was a little frustrating.

“We don't have rats,” Chloé repeated, matter-of-factly. “I forgot to clean something up, that's all.”

Incredulously, she stared at her, willing her to explain.

But Chloé didn't add anything on to that.

“Pardon?” Marinette questioned, bewildered. “You—you forgot to clean up after your secret pet rats?”

“We don't have rats,” Chloé assured her, sounding exasperated as she put a hand on her hip. “How many times do I have to say that to make you understand? Forget about it, Mari. It's fine.”

It wasn't making any sense. There was no mistaking what she'd found on the floor, absolutely no way that she could've mistaken food for it, and that was what prompted her to announce, “I'm really fucking confused.”

She couldn't quite understand Chloé's expression as she looked at her.

Then, Chloé sighed, reaching up and pushing her long hair over her shoulder. “Take the day off tomorrow and I'll show you.”

It didn't take much for her to agree to that. The amount of days she took off weren't a lot, and her boss wasn't annoyed with her when she called up, saying that she was sick out of the blue.

Adrien told her she'd finally reached her rebellious years.

Chloé refused to tell her where they were going.

The weather was getting hotter, a drastic difference to the chilly months before, and Marinette took her jacket off barely half an hour into their car journey. She started using Chloé's magazine as a fan, but Chloé slapped it out of her hands, not wanting it to get crumpled.

But it fell to the floor, a few pages folding in half.

Chloé didn't seem to notice.

When they were pulled up to the location, Marinette had sloppily pulled her hair into a ponytail, welcoming the cool air when she opened up the door. It had taken them a while to find a parking spot, and she wasn't at all surprised when she'd seen where they were.

A fucking _zoo_.

“Why are we even here?” Marinette asked, unsure whether she sounded as whiny as she felt.

Chloé just huffed.

As it was Chloé's ideas, she paid for their tickets. She did have some sort of discount, apparently, but Marinette wasn't paying much attention to that; rather, her eyes were on the café that was visible from the entrance, already reaching into her bag to get her money out.

She felt a lot better after she'd bought drinks for the both of them, Chloé's one with that awful syrup that she liked.

“So,” Marinette drawled, fiddling with her straw. “Any reason we're chilling out in a zoo when I _should_ be at work?”

Chloé didn't look at her. “Yeah.”

Then, after Marinette had waited a few moments to see whether anything else would be added on, she muttered under her breath, “Yeah, real informative.”

They wandered for a bit. Chloé was a few steps ahead, barely taking any sips from her drink, leading the way without really looking at any of the maps. Marinette hadn't been to the zoo since she was little, so she didn't recognise any of it, and Chloé kept turning her down when she made comments about the animals that they were passing.

“But they're so cute!” Marinette protested, wanting to see them.

She could've broken off, stubbornly gone to see them, but Chloé seemed to have a plan in mind.

“Later,” Chloé demanded. “We've got somewhere to be.”

Marinette purposely took a loud sip.

It was Chloé's next words that caused her to almost trip.

“My parents are here.”

Marinette caught herself, but her drink fell to the floor. She didn't mourn the loss of it, quickly scooping up the drink to put in a nearby bin before she spluttered out, “You—what?”

“My parents, dumbass,” Chloé retorted. “Listen.”

There wasn't any heat to her words.

“I thought they were dead,” Marinette dumbly replied. “To you, I mean. Maybe actually dead? I really don't know.”

Chloé made a disapproving noise. “Might as well be.”

It was a lot to take in. From the little amount that they were mentioned, she'd assumed that they'd just been so terrible that Chloé had written them off. “Because... they work in a zoo?”

“Very little work is being done,” Chloé muttered, bitter. “I don't like talking about them.”

A bit stunned, she could only reply, “Yeah, I got that.”

They continued to walk. Chloé expertly navigated through the zoo, making Marinette wonder how many times she'd visited. Sure, they didn't do _everything_ together, but going to the zoo was expensive, and Chloé never posted any pictures about her visits online. For someone that enjoyed taking pictures of everywhere she went, that was a bit strange.

Chloé stopped in front of a gate to get to a specific exbibit.

Marinette peered around her to see what it was.

“Bats?” she questioned.

Rather than reply, Chloé opened up the gate, letting Marinette walk past her to go in first. It was a subtle thing that she didn't do for others—always opening it for herself instead—but Marinette had never brought it up, appreciating the small gesture.

She couldn't see any workers inside, let alone the bats. They couldn't actually go in; instead, they wandered through the designated section, looking inside to see whether any of them were there.

There was a reason the other guests were at other sections instead.

When Chloé stopped in front of the main section, Marinette curiously drawled out, “...So?”

“If you...” Chloé started before shaking her head, cutting herself off. “This is going to be a bit weird.”

She pushed her fringe off of her forehead. “Meeting your parents?”

“Yeah,” Chloé said. “I don't take anyone else here.”

That was confirmation that she came here often, then. “Well... thanks?” Marinette awkwardly replied. “I don't know what to say.”

“Save it for when you actually see them,” Chloé muttered. “Remember, I'm your ride, so you can't run away from me screaming for long.”

That made her laugh.

Chloé purposely cleared her throat. “Mother?” she called out. “Father?”

Turning her head, Marinette looked to see whether anyone was around them, but they were still the only ones in the exhibit. There wasn't actually anyone within hearing distance either, and she doubted that they were being recorded by the zoo and would have anyone listening in to them that would respond immediately.

But before she could even point that out, something strange happened.

She was actually able to see a bat—but not just one, two.

They came into view, making odd screeching-like noises that she'd only heard online, perching on branches, very visible to anyone that would walk past, even though it was the middle of the day. Then again, she didn't know much about bats at all.

Chloé crossed her arms. “Look at the floor.”

At first, she almost thought that Chloé was talking to the bats—but that was _ridiculous_. Marinette did as she was told, looking down within the area for the bats, not quite sure what she was supposed to spot, or even what they were _doing_.

“At the shit, you fucking dumbass.”

That was even weirder.

Marinette squinted, not really understand what was going on, but she did eventually find the droppings—

They were familiar enough for her to hesitantly ask, “You're not telling me you have a pet bat or something, are you?”

“Dude,” Chloé deadpanned, gesturing with an exasperated wave of her hand to the two bats that were still staring at them. “They fucking responded to my words, what do you think?”

She shrugged. “That they're well-trained?”

“They're not _dogs_ ,” Chloé snapped.

“Well, yeah,” Marinette said, pointing towards the sign. “I can read, you know.”

Chloé made a frustrated sound. “These are my parents, you moron.”

And at that statement, Marinette could only question, “How does that make _me_ the moron in this situation?”

Because it was absurd, completely and utterly unbelievable, but from the way Chloé sighed in irritation and ran a hand through her hair, not even caring that she ruined her hairstyle that way, it made her stay silent.

It was _ridiculous_.

The bats started to make noises again, the both of them.

Chloé snapped at them, “I can't fucking understand you, shut up.”

The screeching got louder.

It made Chloé glower at them, her attention no longer on Marinette. “If you don't like my language, why don't you fucking telling me in person?”

One bat flew close to Chloé before backing off back to the branch again, as though it was trying to convey some kind of message. And even the fact that Marinette was thinking that after seeing the strange behaviour made her wonder whether there had been something added to her drink to make her think differently to normal.

She touched her face, trying to see whether it felt hot.

She seemed perfectly fine, and that was even more worrying.

“Why did I even fucking come here?” Chloé grumbled, turning on her heel and making it so the bats could only see her backs. Then, she reached out and put her hands onto Marinette's shoulders. “No, you are not drugged or some shit. These are my parents and I hate them, so I'd very much like to leave, thanks.”

Marinette just dumbly nodded.

The bats continued to screech as Chloé dragged her away.

The ride back was quiet for a bit, with Chloé seething behind the wheel, taking her anger out by making no conversation between them and simply tapping her fingers along with the loud music she'd put on, and Marinette really didn't want to change that.

What a strange turn of events.

It wasn't as though she was going to believe her—right?

It was preposterous.

So what if the droppings matched? Or that bats seemed to interact with that? Perhaps, maybe, that was perfectly normal—because who was she to say what was normal to bats at all? Bats had never been her interest, she'd never even looked into them before—

Why hadn't she looked into them _before_?

And to make matters worse, Chloé did something even stranger when they got home.

She started taking her clothes off.

“Do that in your room!” Marinette reprimanded, already reaching for a pillow to throw at her.

Chloé ignored her, ducking her head to avoid the pillow—causing it to fall pathetically onto the floor—and continued to take her clothing off, not at all listening to her.

Marinette sat down, putting her head in her hands with a sigh, exhausted from the turns that her day had taken. She was convinced that she should've just gone to work, not listened to what Chloé had wanted to do when it only led to her thinking she was having a mental breakdown of some sort—

That trail of thought was rudely interrupted by a screech.

Marinette jumped in shock, hands falling down to her side, and her eyes darted around the room to find the source of the noise. And when she saw Chloé's clothes on the floor but her friend not visible, she called out her name as she got up to her feet.

But there wasn't a verbal response.

Well, not one that she _wanted_.

The screeching happened.

She couldn't tell where it was coming from.

Marinette called out Chloé's name, trying to see where she'd disappeared to, but their bedroom doors were still closed, and she definitely would've heard the creaking hinges if they were opened in the first place, along with the sound of the front door.

The noise was even louder that time.

It was then that Marinette noticed that the bundle of clothing seemed to be moving—it wasn't too much, just a little bit that had a bump and was shaking, and it caused her stomach to feel tight and uncomfortable.

It was ludicrous.

But when she lifted up Chloé's shirt, there was a small blob of black—

And it screeched at her.

Marinette stumbled back, falling over in the process, her backside painfully hitting the floor as she tried to process the sight of the tiny—so very tiny—bat that was nestled within the discarded clothing.

She didn't even have time to question it before it was gone.

There wasn't some dramatic transformation, no limbs growing grossly, nor was there anything like television shows liked to show; rather, in the time it took her to blink, Chloé was standing naked before her without an ounce of shame, fixing her hair as though nothing had happened.

Marinette should've been the one screeching instead.

Of all the things she could've said—could've _done—_ she came out with, “It was your shit on the floor!”

Chloé rolled her eyes.

-x-

Vampires were real.

It took Chloé transforming one more time for her to believe it, but with that reveal—it made so much _sense_.

Marinette didn't know whether she was crying from laughter or just hysterical by the end of that conversation.

“You—you drink _blood_?” Marinette spluttered, finding it so hard to imagine someone she trusted so explicitly doing such a thing. “I—I don't understand.”

That was after she'd calmed down. Chloé had dramatically sat down on the sofa, putting one thigh on top of the other as she leaned back and inspected the nails on one hand, and said that she'd answer any questions that weren't too stupid.

Chloé's answer to the blood questions was to point to the kitchen.

Marinette just stared at her, wide-eyed.

“Vital,” Chloé said.

It took a moment to click.

“I—what?” Marinette questioned, bewildered. “That's... not an answer.”

“The flavour, dumbass.” Chloé looked very close to rolling her eyes. “It's blood.”

“Blood,” she repeated dumbly. “It's blood.”

That—that was absolutely ridiculous to think about, wasn't it? But the flavour, vital, didn't have any further description. There wasn't anything in the descriptions of the products that stated that it was made from blood, but, surely, someone had to have had researched into it to found out the answer. For the flavour to be so popular to be included in a large variety of food and drink, it _had_ to be approved and known—

Chloé interrupted her with, “Are you just forgetting we visited my parents or what?”

And that was even more confusing.

Chloé actually went and made her a drink while there was a break in the conversation.

It didn't even occur to her to try and look up answers online.

“It's, like, a permanent vacation for them,” Chloé answered, resentment and disdain clear in her voice as she stared at the wall rather than at her. “Free housing, food, being pampered and showered with compliments—it's actually really common for our kind.”

And that response was so ridiculous that Marinette couldn't help but laugh.

Then, when she realised what she was laughing at, Marinette quickly put a hand over her mouth, shooting her friend an apologetic look.

Chloé waved her hand dismissively. “It's fine, laugh. I think they're fucking idiots.”

“You—you're not going to join them?”

“I don't _want_ to.” She wrinkled her nose. “It's fucking degrading. I mean, I _love_ being the centre of attention, but having people gawk at me all day? No, thank you.”

It made sense why Chloé didn't mention her family often. For them to be tucked away in a zoo—of all places—meant that they weren't exactly being good parental figures, let alone being able to contact or be an influence for their daughter in any way. And from how Chloé had spoken to them earlier that day, it was clear that there was a language barrier while they were in the exhibit.

It was so fucking weird to think about.

Remembering how her parents had looked, Marinette blurted out, “But you're so small.”

Chloé bristled at that. “I'm perfectly normal for my age, you fucking—”

“Your _age_?”

“I'm a baby,” Chloé grumbled, sulking as she leaned back against the sofa cushions. “I have a lot more growing to do, okay?”

Marinette burst out into hysterical laughter at that, the sight of Chloé pouting and the words getting to her.

It could've been because of how strange the whole day had been, but she really was reaching her limit at that point. To hear her friend complain about being a _baby—_ the friend she'd always seen as someone that had their life together, that had a well paying job, and had even offered to live with her when Marinette had needed somewhere more convenient to stay—caused tears to appear in her eyes as she laughed.

Chloé glared at her for a few seconds before joining her.

And that just caused her to laugh even _more_.

At some point, Marinette had draped herself onto Chloé's shoulder, laughing stupidly until it sounded like she was wheezing and her face felt hot, and she was absolutely sure that Chloé was in much the same position.

Her cheek was pressed against Chloé's shoulder. “You're not, like, going to bite me, are you?”

“That's fucking disgusting.” Chloé's voice sounded as hoarse as hers. “Besides, it's not like I actually have fangs.”

Marinette didn't know what to say.

“You thought I had _fangs_?” Chloé shrieked, pushing her away. “That's so fucking rude!”

“It's not like I know everything!” Marinette exclaimed, throwing her hands up in exasperation. “I'm questioning everything just because you took me to meet your furry parents!”

Chloé glared at her. “Don't fucking call them that—”

“If the shoe fits, _Chloé—_ ” A pillow hit her face that time. Marinette spluttered as she pushed it away, letting it fall on the floor. “That was just rude.”

With a toss of her hair over her shoulder, Chloé replied, “No, rude is you assuming I'm going to bite you.”

“I asked, actually,” Marinette corrected pompously.

Sticking to attempted humour when she didn't know how to react was her go-to for such a situation—or, well, any where she was utterly lost on what to do. It wasn't every day that her friend admitted that she wasn't human, or that she'd actually been consuming blood all along with her knowing.

Her throat felt tight.

“I ate _blood_?” Marinette squeaked out, her hand flying up to touch her neck. “You let me eat blood!”

Chloé sniffed. “You let yourself, actually.”

“Now's not the time to be so fucking—”

“It's not like it damaged you or anything,” Chloé interrupted, so matter-of-factly it was like they were talking about the weather. “It's donated human blood or whatever—might as well label it as organic or some shit, I don't know. It wasn't stolen or taken without anyone's consent, since I know you're going to imagine some slaughterhouse or something.”

But none of that really sunk in. “I've eaten blood.”

“If you really want to be picky, you've also had it in most drinks you snatch from me before saying they're gross,” Chloé pointed out without any tact. “It's not my fault you don't listen to me.”

“You don't have the moral high-ground here.”

Chloé raised her eyebrows. “Do I not?”

“No!” Marinette exclaimed, incredulous. “You—you're a _vampire_.”

“Yeah, what's your point?” Chloé replied, no hesitation whatsoever.

Marinette spluttered, “You eat— _drink_ blood!”

“I do.” Chloé looked at her nails again, so nonchalantly it was as though she didn't care about the conversation at all. “And you eat meat. But that doesn't make us both terrible people—besides, you know that blood tastes terrible.”

She swallowed. “You hate blood?”

“You fucking _know_ that,” Chloé said with a dramatic roll of her eyes. “Do you not even listen to my words, Mari? No wonder you look like you're fucking stoned right now.”

And while Marinette stuck to attempted humour that mostly fell flat, Chloé liked to push the blame onto others when she was nervous.

Marinette pushed her fringe off of her forehead, feeling a bit light-headed. “I feel like I'm losing my mind.”

“I feel like that whenever I see my dumbass parents, too.”

That caused her to laugh really unattractively. “That's not what I meant at all.”

“Yeah, but I completely mean it,” Chloé replied.

There was an awkward silence, the two of them just sitting beside each other. Marinette stared at her, taking in her sharp features, the long blonde-coloured hair, and Chloé met her gaze without any visible nervousness, not at all looking as if she was worrying about Marinette's reaction.

But she had to have been, right? Otherwise, Chloé wouldn't have kept it a secret at all—

That was the thing. They'd been friends for a few years, lived together without any problems, and that was all without what she was being a problem.

And Chloé was taking the time to try and explain things to her, actually having some sort of patience—that proved that she cared about her more than ever.

“Okay,” Marinette said, taking in a deep breath. Then, when she'd released it, she sagged back against the sofa, and repeated, “Okay, okay. I get it. Okay.”

“That I hate my parents?” Chloé quipped.

She laughed. “Yeah, I understand that before today.”

“Fuck, this was all for nothing, then.”

Marinette's head rolled back and she squirmed until she was comfortable, staring lazily up at the ceiling above. “So, you're a baby.”

“I'm young for a vampire, yeah.”

That just brought up more questions.

And, thankfully, Chloé answered them. There was cursing involved, a lot of insults that weren't actually supposed to offend her, and Marinette actually laughed at most of them.

It was just so bewildering.

Vampires lived longer than humans, apparently. Chloé didn't give a clear answer for how old the average was, and when Marinette questioned how old she really was, she actually choked when Chloé admitted she was twenty-six in human years—not the twenty-three she thought—but would be stuck with the youthful look of her twenties for the future, no chance of getting wrinkles.

Because that definitely made sense.

Unlike fiction, vampires didn't burn to death in the sun—they were just really sensitive and annoyed by it. The constant sneezing drove Chloé mad, apparently, and the constant sunglasses and ducking under cover suddenly made sense.

“I also get a really bad rash if I don't wear sunscreen,” she remarked. “It fucking sucks, Mari.”

Why did she not think it was _weird_?

“I thought you had allergies,” Marinette lamely replied.

“I do.” Chloé sniffed. “To the sun, literally.”

She fucking _laughed_.

The rest of the evening was Marinette asking random questions. Chloé was scrolling on her phone, barely looking up from the device as she gave out her answers, but there was no actual irritation in her voice whatsoever. She was putting up with every stupid question Marinette had without any concern.

“So, no fangs?”

“We've been over this,” Chloé grumbled. “No, no fangs. I literally have the same teeth as you.”

That turned into Marinette looking on the internet and finding out that it was possible to get plastic surgery—of a sort—which made it so she _could_ have her teeth worked on to have fangs.

Chloé shot her a dirty look for that.

“Were you _turned_?”

“No, I was born by two idiots,” Chloé grumbled. “It is possible to turn someone like you, but it's fucking gross, so I'm not telling you. I want to throw up just thinking about it.”

Marinette looked at her warily. “You don't have to eat me, do you?”

“Fuck off.”

But through all those questions—learning that her friend tried to smother the taste of blood with other food to sustain herself—it didn't answer the most pressing question.

“But why was there shit on the floor?”

To her surprise, Chloé looked embarrassed at that, even going as far as to have red appear on her cheeks. It was a rare expression for her, something she'd only seen a few times.

The reply was too quiet to hear. Then, when Marinette asked her to repeat herself, Chloé didn't look her in the eyes as she admitted, “I flew into the wall.”

Stunned, Marinette could only repeat, “You... flew into the wall.”

“I'm not good at it, okay?” Chloé snapped, still avoiding eye contact as she crossed her arms, shuffling to readjust her position. “I'm a stupid baby in that form and I hate it—I can't _control_ it.”

And wasn't that such a strange answer to hear?

“It's not my fucking fault I have to do it,” Chloé continued on, and there was no hiding the whine of her voice. “It's like a fucking itch if I don't transform. I thought, maybe—just _maybe—_ I'd be able to be like everyone else, but no, I'm a dumb bitch, apparently.”

There wasn't really a way for her to understand that, not really. There was no comparison she could make at that moment, nothing to compare them together.

So, instead, she stuck to her usual tactic when she didn't understand the situation.

Marinette reached out and patted her shoulder. “You really are a dumb bitch.”

Chloé's expression was nothing short of loathing when she turned to look at her.

It caused them to burst out into laughter again.

It probably wasn't the right response to the situation. But what else was Marinette supposed to do? Screaming or running away definitely wasn't the correct thing to do—she trusted Chloé with almost everything she had, and that wouldn't change in a matter of moments, not when Chloé was doing her best to try and make her understand her side of the story.

Marinette was almost impressed that Chloé had managed to hide it for so long.

A thought popped into her mind. “Is that why you have bruises sometimes?”

Chloé slapped her hand away. “Fuck you.”

“That's a yes, then,” Marinette remarked, gleeful. “You're just an idiot.”

“I didn't tell you this so you can bully me,” Chloé grumbled.

But there was one thing she was wondering about. “Were you ever going to actually tell me?” Marinette questioned. “If I hadn't thought we had rats, I mean.”

Chloé shrugged. “Eventually.”

“That's real helpful.”

“I'm convinced you don't really believe me right now,” Chloé replied. “I could always strip—”

Marinette hastily shook her head. “ _No_.”

It was just a joke, but she knew that Chloé would've done it if she actually said yes. She'd already transformed—if that was the right word—twice to prove her point, and that meant a lot in the first place. For someone that had been so confident about introducing her to her parents that lived inside a zoo, it was only the mention of Chloé's accident that had caused her to seem embarrassed at all.

It was so like her.

There wasn't really a chance that she was dreaming, was there?

Vampires were very much real.

Marinette turned to look at her, confusion clear in her voice as she said, “But you have a reflection.”

“Because this is real life, you fucking idiot,” Chloé replied without any heat to her words. Then, she gestured to her face. “Do you really think I'd be able to do my make-up without a mirror?”

“...And you work in front of mirrors all day,” she pointed out.

Chloé snorted. “Yeah, I think they would've known something was up.”

“Maybe.”

“What if I got some holy water?” Marinette asked. “Would that burn you?”

“Marinette.” Chloé breathed out slowly, looking at her pointedly. “It's a fucking myth.”

She held her hands up in a sign of surrender. “I just want to make sure. It would've been fun to get a spray bottle or something, you know? To keep you in line.”

“I'm not a _pet_.”

She grinned. “Yeah, but you are a pest.”

“Fuck right off,” Chloé retorted, giving her a shove.

Marinette happily fell back against the cushions as she laughed at her. “What about garlic? You're not just spitting out the food when I'm not looking, are you?”

“How about you just assume they're all fake unless I tell you?” Chloé proposed. “This is getting real tiring.”

“Or I could experiment—”

“Or you could literally fuck off,” Chloé interjected, looking at her with disdain clear in her expression. “All I want to do right now is go to bed and sleep for a week.”

She curiously asked, “Because you were out in the sun?”

“Because you're _annoying_.”

“But you love me!” Marinette called out as Chloé started to walk across the room.

Chloé didn't even look at her when she raised her finger to swear at her before the sound of her bedroom door slamming echoed through the room.

When she'd called in sick to work, she'd never expected to have her view of the world changing. The few times she'd done it in the past when Chloé wanted to do something, it had ended up being a shopping trip or something else ridiculous—not finding out that her friend tried to drown out the taste of blood with syrup—

“Vitamins, my ass,” she mumbled, shaking her head from just how ridiculous it was.

With how focused she'd been on Chloé, trying to make sure that they'd be okay, it hadn't even occurred to her that there was someone else that needed to be included.

Because Chloé—

Chloé wasn't the only one telling her that they were vitamins.

She stared up at the ceiling in shock.

It didn't take long to connect the dots—vital-flavoured food and drink, the ducking into stores to stay out of the direct sunlight when they were outside, the damn _sneezes_ , and the little sachets that he always put into his drinks.

Vampires were real and her boyfriend had no idea that she knew.

-x-

She wasn't very subtle about it.

But, then again, Marinette hadn't exactly been subtle about her feelings—it was just good luck that Adrien was oblivious to her pining for months. Of course, after they'd started dating, she'd mentioned it and caused him to laugh at her, but then he'd pointed out that it had been the same for him.

She couldn't really defend herself there.

She'd been best friends—and living with—with a vampire, and yet she hadn't noticed anything out of the ordinary. And if that didn't spell out how ridiculous unobservant she was, she didn't know what would.

So, she put a vampire film on for the two of them to watch.

Adrien didn't protest to it at all, wasn't against it, and he was making smart remarks throughout, causing her to try and muffle her laughter into his shoulder. Adrien was more than happy to wrap an arm around her shoulder, holding her close, without looking uncomfortable at all.

Because unlike on the screen, vampires didn't have a better sense of smell than her.

“How the fuck would I smell your blood through your skin?” Chloé had replied, utterly fed up. “It doesn't fucking work like that. And I'm not going to salivate after you when you're on your period— _gross_.”

He was just as useless as her, that was what she knew.

He didn't have any unnaturally long fangs, didn't hiss in displeasure like what was happening on the screen, and he definitely didn't have to be invited to enter anyone's home.

He was just like her, wasn't he?

They'd only been dating for a few months, not a long time compared to their friendship, but she had to wonder whether he'd actually planned to tell her or not. As with living with Chloé, being in a relationship with him was a big deal, wasn't it?

That was a bit too selfish for her to think.

She didn't have the right to decide whether he should've told her or not before they started being together. If anything, it helped her to understand why he isolated himself so willingly, not being very good at making friends—

Could vampires die like everyone else?

She hadn't asked Chloé that question.

There was a lot that she didn't know about him—if his friends had been vampires before, whether he regularly changed into a bat to scratch the itch she'd been told about, or if he was actually as youthful as he appeared to look.

Goodness, there was a chance she was actually dating an old man, wasn't there?

The laughter that escaped her at that wasn't because of the film.

Adrien shot her a questioning look, but she just shook her head, resting her forehead against his shoulder, not able to look at him without cracking up.

Adrien was just—he was naïve, that was the best way to put it. Imagining him as an old man seemed entirely unbelievable, not possible when he barely had his life together and was so terribly awkward with strangers. If his staring from the beginning had been anything to go by, she highly doubted that he'd gone through all those years without someone telling him about it before.

“Isn't the age-gap a bit weird?” Marinette questioned.

“Between them?” Adrien enquired. “That's what's making you laugh?”

It wasn't, but she wasn't going to tell him that. “It's just odd to me, that's all.”

“It's a bit bad,” he admitted. “But they clearly like each other—and she's not a minor—so it's... it seems okay to me.”

“It's, like, over sixty years apart,” she pointed out.

Adrien grimaced. “But he's stuck at the young age, so it's not too bad, right?”

“But mentally, isn't he old as _fuck_?”

His laugh was half-hearted. “It's not like he has kids? That would be what makes it weird—if the kids were older than her, but there's none.”

She asked, “So, it's only weird if she's a step-mother?”

With a shrug, Adrien replied, “I guess.”

There was a beat of silence.

She couldn't stop herself. “You don't have children, right?”

Adrien rolled his eyes, not taking her seriously at all. “I think you'd know if I did.”

“I'm not so sure about that,” she mused. “There's a lot that I don't know about you. How do I know that you don't have a secret like?”

“...With _children_?”

“Well.” Marinette paused, tucking some stray hairs behind her ears. “Maybe it's something else. I don't know. Do you have any secrets you want to admit to?”

Adrien's lopsided smile only showed one dimple. “Yeah, I think you're insane.”

“That's just rude,” she replied, crossing her arms as she leaned back against the sofa cushions. “That's not what I was talking about at all.”

With amusement clear in his voice, he said, “I have no idea what you're expecting me to admit here.”

“Are you actually related to Chloé?”

He blinked, visibly surprised. “I—what?”

“I met Chloé's parents,” Marinette admitted. “And they didn't mention you at all. Do you they hate you as much as Chloé does?”

It was a terrible lie—she hadn't even understood what Chloé's parents had even been saying in the first place, but the question was one that she was actually wondering. It hadn't popped into her head until after Chloé had stormed off to bed, saying that she was too overwhelmed with questions, and Marinette hadn't bugged her with any the next day, waiting until she was ready again.

It just so happened that she saw Adrien before that.

“...You met her parents.” It didn't sound like a question. “Like, _met_ them.”

Her lips twitched from trying not to laugh. “I did.”

“Okay,” he said, repeating it to himself, still looking stunned.

Marinette wasn't quite sure what that was about.

There was an awkward silence.

Then, Marinette did what she did best in such situations.

She rambled.

“Please, just tell me that you don't accidentally fly into walls and shit yourself,” Marinette all but begged. “That's all I'm asking, really. It's not too much. At least, I don't think it is? Is it? I—”

And at that moment, it wasn't her that was stumped for the right words to say. “You—you _what_?” Adrien blurted, voice higher-pitched than usual due to his panic.

She slowly asked, “I'm not, like, being racist or something from assuming you all turn into bats, am I?”

If anything, that answer made his panicked reaction even worse.

“I'm not trying to be insensitive,” she quickly confessed, reaching out and gently putting her hand on top of his. “I don't really know a lot. Maybe you're a really good flier or something—maybe Chloé is just _bad_. That sounds more like it.”

His lips were parted in shock, but no words were coming out.

“Adrien?” she prodded.

He started to blink a lot.

Marinette worriedly called out, “Adrien?”

But he continued to do so, and she quickly realised that he was trying to stop himself from crying. However, it didn't stop redness flooding his cheeks, and his expression was so crumpled and pathetic-looking that she couldn't help but feel responsible for it.

Because it wasn't the cause of anyone else, was it?

“I'm sorry,” she winced, taking her hand off of his, feeling that it wasn't her place to touch him at that moment. “I—I've been trying to think about how to break the ice, but, clearly, this wasn't the right way. I'm not good at being serious when I need to be.”

With the hand she was no longer holding, he reached up and hastily rubbed his eyes, still trying not to cry.

Her stomach twisted uncomfortably.

“I'm sorry,” she apologised, sincere. “I didn't... I'd never want to upset you intentionally, I swear.”

“I'm—I'm not—” Adrien started, only to cut himself off with a sharp intake of breath before he sniffed.

She didn't have any tissues to give him that time.

His eyelashes were wet by that point.

And when he spoke, his voice cracked. “Why are you—why are you even here?”

She swallowed. “Why wouldn't I?”

He closed his eyes, still rubbing at one with the palm of his hand.“You—you know what I am, don't you?”

“Yeah,” she whispered. “But you don't have kids, right?”

“ _Marinette_ —”

“I'm just saying!” she exclaimed, sticking to the bad humour when she didn't know what to do to comfort him. “I'm completely fine with an age difference as long as there's no kids, okay? That's not really what I'm looking for in my life right now.”

His laughter sounded wet. “Why are you focusing on that?”

“It's easier to cope this way,” she replied. “Besides, I've had a couple of days to process everything.”

Adrien's voice cracked again as he opened his eyes to look at her. “Everything?”

“Almost everything,” she amended, daring to scoot closer so her knee was touching his, the distance less than before. “Like, I still have questions, but they're all pretty dumb. Other than asking if you and Chloé are really are related, of course.”

She could see it as he wetted his lips. “We're not.”

“I fucking knew it!” Marinette exclaimed, raising a fist in victory. It fell back down to her side quickly with a flash of embarrassment from Adrien's bewildered expression, but it didn't last very long. “For real, though. Do you actually turn into a bat?”

He sucked in a breath. “That's—that's what you want to know?”

“Well, yeah,” she said, fiddling with her hands in her lap. “I'm not being racist, am I?”

He pursed his lips, the two of them staring at each other for a moment before he finally replied, “I do.”

Her response came out far more excited than she thought it would. “You _do_?”

And from his expression, he picked up on that, too. Adrien shifted back, making it so their knees were no longer touching, but she wasn't hurt from the sudden movement; if anything, she understood that he wanted to not be smothered at that moment. Although she was terrible at comforting people, she knew him well enough to read his body language.

And right then, it was clearly not inviting.

“I... do,” he quietly confirmed.

“Okay,” Marinette said with a nod, trying to sound casual. “Okay, that's cool. Are you good at it?”

“Am I good at flying?” he questioned, sounding strangled.

Marinette furrowed her brow. “Yeah.”

Maybe, just maybe, she wasn't reacting the right way. She thought that she was doing a good job—she'd already gone through most of the emotions with Chloé, been reassured that she was perfectly safe with them, just like before, and it wasn't as though she had any reason to freak out at Adrien.

She supposed that she should've felt betrayed, but he had every reason to keep the secret to himself. It was how vampires had kept so secretive, wasn't it?

Or they paid off anyone that did the research onto the vital-flavoured products and realised what it really was since it was never told to the public.

He sniffed loudly. “Why would you—why are you asking that?”

The best response she could think of was, “Because Chloé flew into my wall?”

He looked like he didn't know whether to believe her or not.

“Because she's just a baby, apparently,” Marinette explained, as though she fully understood what she was talking about. “And really shit at flying because of her age. Is it like that with you?”

Adrien pushed his hair away from his face, but half the strands fell back down again. “I—she's really that young?”

She latched onto his wording. “You're _not_?”

He visibly struggled for words for a few moments—looking close to crying and causing her stomach to churn uncomfortably from guilt—before he averted his gaze and asked, “You—you said it's not a problem, right?”

“I mean, in theory, no?” she answered with a frazzled frown. “Unless you're super ancient or something.”

“What—” Adrien swallowed. “But I'm stuck at this age—”

“Physically, right?” Marinette questioned. “Or whatever. I got the basic idea of it from Chloé—you'll always look like you're in your twenties or some shit. But am I a child in your eyes?”

He met her gaze. “You're not.”

“Oh, thanks,” she replied, raising her eyebrows. “Real glad you're not dating a child, then.”

“No, I—I mean,” Adrien rambled, reaching up and touching the nape of his neck. “You're, like, my age? I've never made a habit of hanging around with humans that are actually older than I look, so I've always considered myself the age that I'm stuck at. Does that make sense?”

All she could reply to that was, “Please, tell me you're not going to call yourself years young.”

“No,” he assured her, shifting in his seat. “I just—I don't feel how old I am?”

She blinked. “Yeah, I don't feel my age either, but there might be a difference here.”

“You're really hung up on this,” he remarked.

“You're the one that called Chloé young,” she defended. “What am I supposed to think right now?”

Adrien frowned. “That you love me enough not to care about my age?”

“I'll think about it,” she replied, purposely leaning back and making a show of putting one thigh on top of the other primly. “Now, I'm awaiting your answer.”

And for a moment, she thought that he actually wasn't going to answer it.

Then, his shoulders sagged as he admitted, “Over one hundred.”

She almost choked when she took in a sharp breath.

Chloé admitting she was a few years older than Marinette thought she was had been surprising—but _this_?

“I'm not that old for a vampire,” Adrien hastily explained, using his hands to emphasise his words. “Not as young as Chloé, but usually we either die really young or burn out after a few hundred years.”

It was a lot to take in.

Adrien continued on to say, “I'm... considered past a teenager, I guess?”

And wasn't _that_ something strange to hear?

Marinette couldn't help but laugh.

-x-

It would be a lie to say that it was easy to adapt to knowing everything was different.

At first, Marinette openly gawked whenever she saw Chloé eating, knowing what was really included in it, and she stared across the store as Adrien got out his little sachet to add to the drink. And to think that she'd never really batted an eyelash at it before, thinking that it was normal behaviour for the two of them—

Well, it was normal for them, wasn't it?

It was only her that had changed.

Chloé didn't walk on tiptoes around her, trying to be careful. She did everything as she did before, not really caring whether Marinette saw her or not—and that was what she expected from her.

Adrien, however, was a different story.

“You don't have to,” he insisted, clearly feeling awkward.

Marinette didn't listen to his protests. With a wave of her hand that was meant to dismiss him to leave her alone, she made his dinner in a second pan, adding the sauce packet that had the blood already in the mixture. When she'd finally paid attention to how many different items were labelled with added vital in it—such a _ridiculous_ name for the flavour—it opened up a lot of recipes that didn't have to be ruined by sauce being squirted on top of it instead.

While Chloé had been more than happy when Marinette had bought the new ingredients, Adrien thought it was far too much. He tried to say that she didn't need to do that, but she helpfully pointed out that he and Chloé were the only people that she cooked for, so wouldn't it just be convenient for her to be prepared?

That shut him up quickly.

And still, he was awkward about it.

“You didn't have to,” he quietly said as she passed his plate to him.

“I wanted to,” Marinette replied, saying that phrase for the umpteenth time that day. “I know it was probably different back in _your_ day—”

Adrien pointed his cutlery at her. “I will kick you.”

“But I'm just stating the truth,” she replied, grinning.

The jabs about his age weren't too annoying for him. She knew that if she really was being awful to him, he'd say something. And so, it became a running joke for the two of them, with her making a stupid quip about him being an old man out of nowhere, making sure they weren't all shoved in on the same day.

And, of course, it came with her asking questions out of nowhere. “Did you ever have a mullet?”

Adrien didn't even dignify that with an answer.

She positively cackled.

It wasn't that it brought them closer—they were already close, and being really good friends before dating had only helped with that. But with knowing more about him, Marinette felt that a lot more made sense. From the lack of family mentioned, his friends that had died—back in the eighties, meaning that the framed photograph was _not_ them going to a costume party—and how he preferred to keep everything to himself.

“It was different for me,” Adrien quietly admitted. “It wasn't as easy to get everything when I was younger, so—so Chloé's really lucky.”

They were in bed together, the warmth from the afternoon having faded and warranting them both wearing pyjamas to sleep in. Marinette had her head resting on one arm, able to make out his face from the small amount of light that was coming in through the curtains.

And since she hadn't thought to ask that before, she questioned, “How different are we talking here?”

“Hugely,” he said. “Not being able to get stuff in the supermarket kind of different. Rather than being able to order online or just go into a store, there was—it's pretty dumb to say now, but there used to be cryptic ads in the paper? Or a stall would pop up at a local market, but be gone within a few months.”

She reached out and patted his side, not wanting to lift her hand out of the duvet. “Poor you.”

He sniffed. “You don't sound sympathetic at all.”

“Honestly, I'm imagining weird black market scenarios right now,” she confessed in a whisper, trying to stop herself from laughing aloud. “Maybe some secret organisations—or even a meeting where it's supposed to be for alcoholics or something, but it's just all you sad vampires complaining about humans.”

Adrien tugged the duvet towards him, making it so part of her body was exposed to the cold air. “You don't deserve this.”

“I'm a genius, give me that,” she demanded, holding onto the material tightly, but not pulling. “Imagine how funny a film would be about that!”

“ _No_.”

She laughed. “Live a little, Adrien—”

“I've lived longer than you, you child,” he retorted, giving into her wants and tossing the duvet at her so it covered her face.

And as she spluttered and laughed, pushing it back down, she exclaimed, “You're the one dating this child!”

“I will smother you in your sleep,” he threatened, but the laughter ruined any seriousness that it could've had. “You're insufferable.”

Marinette's smile reached her eyes. “But you love me, right?”

“Yeah,” he replied, sounding so fed up. “One of my worst life decisions, I'm sure.”

She purposely shuffled closer to him. “Are you sure about that?”

“Oh, absolutely,” Adrien stated, leaning forward and bumping his nose against hers. The movement was gentle, much like he always handled her when they were touching, and it made her feel appreciated that he thought about it. “You're terribly annoying.”

And from their close distance, she could feel his breath on her skin. “That doesn't sound like a bad thing.”

“I don't think it is,” he whispered, ever-so-quietly.

“A compliment, then,” she decided.

His answer to that was to softly press his lips against her. It was a gentle kiss, not one filled with passion or fuelled by lust; rather, it was as gentle as his touch as he put a hand onto her hip, shifting closer so they weren't so far apart. She readily adjusted her position to have one her legs wrapped around him, not self-conscious or embarrassed at all, not when he always made her feel so comfortable.

When he trailed kisses down her neck, she couldn't help but burst out into laughter.

“Don't you dare,” Adrien said, exasperated.

It only made her laugh more. “It's—it's not my fault!”

“You're the one laughing,” he replied, but his voice shook with his own amusement, obviously trying not to be as loud and open as her. “How am I supposed to do anything with you when you're giggly?”

Marinette rolled onto her back, no longer wrapped around him. “You're cock-blocking me because I'm happy?”

“I never said—”

She crossed her arms. “I'm sure.”

“I know you,” he said, reaching out and poking her cheek. “You'll just keep laughing the whole way through.”

Marinette swatted his hand away. “Absolute lies. You've never even had sex with me.”

“Because I was worried that you didn't know about me,” he helpfully pointed out. “To be honest, I'm still waiting for you to run away.”

She snorted. “I'm literally in your bed.”

“And that's a miracle,” Adrien announced. “How long is that going to last?”

“Until the morning.”

He poked her cheek again. “Stop being smart with me.”

She made to bite the end of his finger, but he pulled his hand back in time, tucking it underneath the duvet. “I can't help that I'm the brains of this relationship—”

“ _You_?” Adrien laughed. “I've got years on you, remember?

“Yeah, but we've established you're an idiot,” she tartly replied. “A huge, big, lovable idiot.”

Adrien looked at her dubiously. “That sounds like there's an insult mixed in there.”

She just grinned.

-x-

The months passed by.

Adrien was too embarrassed to turn into a bat in front of her.

However, he did set his camera onto a timer and take a photo. It was blurry and terribly quality, but he said that it was all that she was getting.

She made it her phone's background.

And while Adrien and Chloé still weren't the best of friends, they were more civil with each other once Marinette got to the bottom of the problem between them—Chloé being entirely too selfish.

It was to be expected, of course.

“How was I to know he wasn't going to blab all about it?” Chloé had snapped, sulking when Marinette asked her why she didn't trust Adrien with her. It had been bugging her after finding out that him being a vampire didn't mean he was any more dangerous than he was as a human. “Can you imagine if you found out about it from _him_? Not me?”

There was no denying that there would've been some hurt, but Marinette liked to think that she would've understood.

“You're not the one kissing me,” she helpfully pointed out.

Chloé sniffed. “I'm too good for you.”

“There's nothing good in you,” Marinette deadpanned.

Chloé tossed her hair over her shoulder dramatically, then ignored her for a few minutes, making a sure of inspecting her nails and phone. It lasted until Marinette poked her cheek two times, just for Chloé to swat her hand away.

It didn't even hurt.

When Marinette figured out that Chloé had deliberately tried to sabotage her date with Adrien before, she was more amused than outrage. The reddened skin from the silver touching him had healed within a day or two, but it was remembering that Chloé had told her to wear the earrings at all that had made her laugh, unable to be annoyed.

“You tried to convince me to get my nipples pierced,” Marinette choked out through her laughter, putting her face in her hands as she shook her head. “Oh, fuck, can you imagine if I went through with _that_?”

Chloé shot her a dirty look. “You ruined my plan.”

Marinette ignored her instead.

Although it wasn't needed, Marinette started to keep a little bottle of sunscreen in her bag. Adrien and Chloé were always prepared when they went out—they would be, after doing it for so many years—but she wanted to be ready for if they ever forgot.

And when she went on dates with Adrien, she was more than happy to pick places that were indoors, or tried to make it so they weren't in direct sunlight for too long. With all his sneezing when they stepped outside—or the sniffing when they walked for a few minutes—he did make use of the extra tissues that she carried around with her.

“I feel like a mother,” she mused.

He stared her right in the eyes as he said, “I'm not into roleplay.”

She crumpled up the tissue she'd been about to give him and threw it at his face instead.

Infuriatingly, Adrien caught it.

He kissed her cheek as a thank you.

It was the small gestures like that that made her chest feel warm.

“Want to get some ice cream?” he suggested.

Marinette hummed. “Only if you get one that I can actually eat.”

“Stop stealing my food and we won't have a problem,” Adrien pointed out.

“Sharing is caring,” she insisted.

“Fine.” He sighed. “I promise I'll get one that doesn't taste completely like ass.”

She raised a fist in victory, pleased. 

**Author's Note:**

> [tumblr](http://xiueryn.tumblr.com) ❤( ´ ▽ ` )


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